Cages
by Anarchist's Rose
Summary: "Hell is empty and the devils are here." -William Shakespeare, The Tempest. How far are you willing to go to save the life of someone you love? How far are you willing to push yourself? Half of the group is kidnapped by a deranged serial killer. It is up to the others to save them, but at what cost? All Washington's are alive.
1. Prologue

_"_ _Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more..." -William Shakespeare, Macbeth_

* * *

Bowling. It's such an innocent sport, a game for young and old alike. The goal is to knock over as many pins as possible. Ten pins. I like to think of my work as bowling. Not my job that I get paid for, I could care less about that line of work, but the employment I have given myself. It's always bowling alleys where I pick my precious pins. Ten pins. Ten little players in my game.

No one ever thinks about the pins in bowling. No. No, no, no, no, no. It's all about the ball. It's all about what the ball does to these pins. The ball must be thrown just right to hit them, topple the pins over in a way that lets them fall onto one another, letting them fall like dominos, one being the cause of downfall for another. The ball is the trigger. The pins are the ones that truly ruin themselves. I like to think of myself as a bowling ball.

I haven't picked out victims in a while. It's been years since I last played my game. It was such a fun game. A perfect game. Those little pins knocked one another over until none of them were left. Could I recreate a perfect game? Could I pick perfect little pins that would knock each other over?

My eyes dance across the bowling alley. It's surrounded by people. I pull out a camera from my bag, a little polaroid I have been using since I started my little game. Film has been harder to come by over the years, getting more and more expensive. I considered switching to digital, but that felt like it would ruin my game. My finger strokes the camera gently. No one notices me. Who would? I'm practically invisible here. I come every week, sit at the same table, watch the lanes from a perfect vantage point. I can see who comes in and out, pick my subjects.

Lane Four is full of noise, a child's birthday party. Too young. I don't play with children. They can't play my game correctly. What about Lane Seven? No, they're a family. Families are predictable. The parents would willingly sacrifice anything to save the children, who would just cry at seeing their parents demise. Lane Twelve? Maybe. They show potential. I lift my camera and carefully take pictures of the different people. Six girls and four boys. They seem to be friends, but there are times they are faking their affections with some of the group, while there are other times where affections seem almost obsessive. I put the pictures down carefully, keeping them away from the sight of any of any potential wandering eyes. I turn my attention to other lanes. Lane Fifteen? Professional bowlers. The look of focus they have on their face makes me think they are just professional with one another, no affections. They would just be in the game for themselves. Boring. Predictable. Not worth the effort. Lane Twenty is another birthday party. Too young, once again. That leaves my victims being Lane Twelve by default.

I'll have to follow them from the alley, study their schedules and movements. I'll have to move from bowling to chess. I'll have to determine their movements, place each piece where I want them. I smile. I'm good at chess. I already have some ideas of how my board could be set up just by watching interactions. I need to wait until they leave, follow them home so I can see where they all live. I feel my heart speed up. I have a new chase. I have a new game.

I don't remember when I started to like playing these games so much. It might have started with my first kill. It might have started before. I remember my first kill. She was quite pretty. She was smiling at me, trusting me, as I led her to where I kept my games. So trusting. So naive. She didn't want to play my game, though. She had seemed so excited, but that changed in a single moment. I can still feel her blood rushing down my fingers. It was exhilarating. I like recreating that feeling. I like these games. I'm sure they like them too. Somewhere.

They're getting up, leaving. A pair of boys are giving one another high fives. One of them must be the winner. Interesting. I put my camera back in my bag and pack up as they return the rental shoes. I have to be careful if I'm going to follow them.

They take two cars, I notice. I can only follow one. Five in each car. There is no advantage for me to follow on car versus the other. I might as well follow the car that is parked closer to me, so I can follow them without being noticed as easily. That one happens to be a large black truck.

I follow them. The driver drops them off at five different houses. They all live in nice neighborhoods, though none of them are gated. How fortunate. They all live within ten minutes of each other. That's fortunate. I carefully write down each of the address, making sure not to be noticed by the driver, staying back just far enough to not be notice. I smile. This is almost too perfect. I just need to figure out where the last five live. If I follow these five around, I'm sure I can find out where the other five live. It's almost too easy. I just need to figure out who is connected to who. I need to discover how they truly feel.

I look at the pictures I have collected of my little bowling pins. I feel excited. I can spend the next six months watching these subjects before I put them into my game. That should give me enough time to set up my new games. Ten victims. Ten bowling pins. One bowling ball. One me. I'm ready.

 **I'm so excited for this story and I hope you are all as excited to read it as I am to write it! Please let me know what y'all think!**


	2. Chapter One- Hannah

Chapter One:

 _"_ _Lord, what fools these mortals be!"- William Shakespeare, Midsummer_ _Night's Dream_

"Josh, truth or dare?" I found myself rolling my eyes. Beth always started a game of some sort when the party started to die down. Maybe party was too strong of a word. It was more like a get together, or game night. Josh, Beth and I would invite our closest friends over and we would all sit around and play card games, board games, video games, drinking games, any games really. One thing was always certain though. When Chris, Josh and Ash finished their way too intense game of Settlers of Catan, or when Mike finished dominating Cards Against Humanity, Beth would suggest an idea that would potentially end with someone getting naked, drunk or laid, if not all three.

"Beth, don't you think we're a bit old for truth or dare?" Josh had his typical smile plastered on his face. Judging by the way Chris and Ash were sitting, cleaning up the board game, it looked like they had lost.

"Okay, I'll ask Sam if you're going to be too much of a pussy to play." Challenge extended.

"Pussy? Alright. You've got me, Beth. Dare." Challenge accepted.

"Okay, I've got to see this." Jessica stood up from the cards and beer and made her way over to where Josh and Beth stood. She was followed by Mike, Matt, and eventually Emily, when she noticed the game was practically over. Even I made my way over, casually giving Mike what I hoped was a small, flirty smile. Sam stood next to me, arms crossed, eyes rolling, ready to see what was about to unfold.

"Alright then." A wicked smile spread across my sister's face. I recognized it. It was a look I've tried to avoid most of my life. She walked over to Josh and started to whisper something in his ear. I already knew where this was going. Beth has told me her weird fantasy about this. Josh's face confirms my suspicions.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes, Josh. Can't back out or I tell everyone your secret." Josh's face pales a bit. It wasn't hard to guess the secret, that he had a huge crush on Sam. Everyone probably had guessed to some extent, but Chris, Beth and I were really the only ones he told. His wording wasn't he had a crush on her, either. It was more along the lines of 'Shit! Where do these boners keep coming from?' as soon as Sam left our place one day. It wasn't hard to figure out the rest.

"Fine then. I'll get you back for this. Just wait." Josh walked away from Beth and over to where Chris and Ash were finishing up packing the game. "Cochise, can I borrow you for a moment?"

Chris shrugged. "Um, sure. Yeah, bro. What's up?"

There it is. The kill. Josh going in for a big one, his lips planting firmly on Chris's. Poor guy was too shocked to do anything but just stand there. Eventually he managed to get Josh off of him, but it took a couple of seconds. Maybe there was a part of him enjoying it. Who knows? "Dude! What the hell?"

Josh rolled his eyes, placing one hand behind his back and giving Beth the middle finger. "I'm sorry, I've just got the biggest boner for you right now."

Everyone was dying, cracking up from laughter. Chris had a look of complete betrayal on his face. Even Ashley was laughing. "Ash!"

She shook her head. "Oh my gosh, Beth, that was great!"

Josh gave Beth one of the dirtiest looks I've ever seen him give someone. "Don't worry, Josh," Beth said, "it's your turn."

He cracked his knuckles, ready to get his revenge. It was easy to see how this night was going to go. A tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts. Sam. "So, what was Josh's big secret?"

I roll my eyes. "Please! Like you don't know."

She shook her head. "No idea. What is it?"

I give her a pat on the shoulder. "Just think about it, alright? It's not that hard of a guess."

She shrugged. "Okay, then, what am I not seeing?"

Obviously not the bulge he's apparently always struggling to hide, not that I've looked. I overheard Chris and Josh having a discussion once. "Never mind. It's nothing. I'll tell you later if you don't figure it out."

She held out a pinky. "Promise?"

I gave her mine, and latched the two together. "Promise." The elementary school gesture sent waves of nostalgia over me, memories of happier days.

"Sammy, Hannah! Get over here!" There was Josh, making me come in and join the others in a game that was just going to leave me embarrassed in the end. Everyone had already formed a circle, bottles of beer and Smirnoff passed around. I just grabbed myself a bottle of water. Someone needed to stay sober, and I doubted Sam wanted to be the only DD.

We walked over to the group, a sound of something outside distracted me. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what, Han?" I had to stop the butterflies from dancing around my stomach as Mike spoke.

"Um, I'm not sure. It's probably nothing."

Beth's jovial face became serious for a moment. "Do you want me to go check it out?"

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. It's probably a cat of a bird or something. Come on, let's just play."

The game went on for the rest of the night. Several stunts were pulled, like Ashley having to shave Chris' leg, Matt having to get in the shower and soak all of his clothes, Jessica having to sit around the rest of the night in just her bra -I'm so jealous of her body- Chris having to dance around the completely obvious fact that he has the worlds biggest crush on Ashley, and Sam having to use me as a pole for a pole dance. Everyone had seemed to forget about the noise I heard outside. It had to be nothing, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. I felt like a pair of eyes were always paying me attention. Ignore it, Hannah. I'm always talking myself into these crazy paranoias.

 **Thank you for all the support! I am having a lot of fun writing this story, so I hope you are enjoying reading it. Things will start to pick up in the next chapter. Guest, to answer your question, Josh is simply another victim.**


	3. Chapter Two- Ashley

**It's a bit early, but I was so excited to get this out, guys!**

Chapter Two:

 _"_ _Would you have me false to my nature? Rather say I play the man I am." -William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Coriolanus_

Everything can be solved with a John Green book and a box of chocolates. That's my personal mantra. Chocolate helps relax and a John Green book will help distract from the world that has been playing out around me. I wish I had my John Green books with me now. I wish I had myself a box of chocolate. I wish I had my spotify playing a random indie playlist while I worked on writing manuscripts for my stories. I wish I was anywhere else.

I was sitting on the couch in my family's den. To my right, resting on the couch, was my new little border collie, terrier mix puppy, passed out in the crack between cushions. At the foot of the couch was my ancient scottie dog that we had gotten when I was in second grade. To my left, resting on her dog bed, was my loyal companion, a little mutt I had rescued from the streets junior year of high school. Somewhere roaming around the house were the three cats that belonged to my family. On the foot of my bed was the controller to the PS4, lying idle as Criminal Minds was paused on the television. My phone was resting on the couch of the arm, wirelessly playing music to my JBL speaker. It was a normal morning. I was hoping to write a few chapters of my newest manuscript while I had the time. I was so focused I didn't even noticed the truck pull up into my driveway. I was startled when the doorbell rang, my dogs all racing to the front door. I pushed them out of the way as I opened the door and stepped outside to talk to the man standing there, self conscious of the fact I wasn't wearing any makeup. "Excuse me, are you Ashley Parker?"

I nodded. "Um, yeah." Since going off to college, no one ever came by to ask about me. I was home for the summer, but that still didn't mean random people would be coming to visit me at my parents house. "Can I help you?"

He nodded. He was wearing a gray jumpsuit with a faded logo on it, depicting his trade. "Yeah, I'm an electrician. I know your parents are at work, but your mom said you'd let me in."

Electrician? I knew the plumber was over constantly. We lived in a pretty old house with old pipes. It was possible we would need help with our wires as well. I had heard there were some problems in my youngest sister's room.

"Okay, come on in." I opened the door, calling the dogs back in as they looked over the stranger curiously. "Sorry about that," I said, scooping up the littlest one up in my arms as he walked in.

"Oh that's alright. You like dogs?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. He was giving me a strange look. The way he looked like he was measuring me up made the hair my neck stand on end. "They make me feel safe." Mackie, Pepper and Panda wouldn't hurt anyone, but he didn't know that. "Did my parents say where the problem was, by any chance?"

He nodded, a smile creeping across his face. "They said the utility room."

Why did it have to be there? It was the creepiest place in my house, being a room that we used to store cleaning supplies and a fridge that housed all of our soft drinks. It always smelled like something had died in there, which was a real possibility, since the room was only accessible from the backyard. It had a concrete floor, and a leak in the ceiling. I usually avoided going in there unless I needed something. "Okay," I motioned for him to follow me. I led him through the living room, past the dining room, and into the den, leading him through a door that led to the backyard. I showed him the entrance to the utility room, motioning for him to go in. "Here it is."

"Can you show me where the breaker is?"

It was tucked away in a corner, between the fridge and the shelf that held the cleaning supplies. I went into the room, the man following me. "It's right here," I opened the breaker, and turned around to leave the room, but he blocked my way. "Excuse me," I said.

He didn't budge. Instead he pulled a needle out of his tool box. I inhaled to scream, but he covered my mouth, not letting a sound escape. I kicked, trying to free myself, before I felt a prick in my neck, and crumbling to the floor. 'This is how I die,' I thought.

I wasn't dead though. I wasn't able to control my body, but I was completely conscious. My eyes were darting around as he picked my up and carried me out of my house. He opened the bed of his truck. I hadn't noticed it was covered before. On the bottom of the truck bed was a few blankets. I had time to think bitterly how considerate that was before he shut me in there. It was pitch black. I couldn't move. There was no way for me to control my body. I couldn't escape. I couldn't even cry. It was like hell. I could feel the car ride, feel myself moving around with each turn, hitting my head several times. I could feel when we stopped. We stopped for a long time. I knew this wasn't good. When the truck bed opened back up, another body was dumped in with me. I wanted to scream when I saw who it was, half with joy, half with terror. Matt was looking at me, eyes as fearful as I imagined mine to be. Why the hell was this happening? What did we do?

There was another drive, even longer than the last one. How long have I been in here? An hour? Two? It was like there was no such thing as time here. The drive seemed to take forever. Long enough for me to regain some feeling. Long enough for Matt to regain feeling nearly completely. I thought the person who had us must have given us the same size dose of whatever he injected us with, because it wore through Matt a lot faster than it did through me.

"Ash? Are you okay?" he asked when he finally was able to talk.

"No offense, Matt, but that's a dumb question." I could finally feel my eyes start to prick with tears, a familiar stinging sensation filling them. "I'm so scared." A sudden turn. Matt and I shifted, pinning me directly to the wall.

"Sorry, Ash," he pushed himself off me, before thinking better of it and pulling me in for a hug. "We'll be okay. I promise."

"Will they be looking for us? Do they even know we're missing? Our parents? Our friends?"

He nodded. "Yeah, for sure. If they haven't noticed by now, they'll notice soon."

I sighed. "Okay." The truck came to a sudden stop, causing us to hit our heads together. "Ow."

Matt went limp. "Pretend you're still frozen, or whatever," he whispered.

I did as he said. Be perfectly still. The man smiled when he opened the truck bed. The sun was setting in the sky. A chill went down my spine. We had to have been in that bed for at least six hours. Time really did disappear. The man pulled out another needle, pricking Matt in the neck before he even had time to react. I jumped. It was obvious I still wasn't frozen. The man injected more of the stuff into my neck, causing me to actually freeze. "That should have been enough driving around to throw anyone who could have been following us off our trail. Let's get you two set up before I go get your other little friends."

Others? Who was he going to get? I felt fear. Would he get Chris? Josh? Sam? I don't want to know, but I have to. I have to warn them, somehow. I don't have my phone. Damn. It's probably still on the couch at home. What the hell do I do? The psychopath picked up Matt out of the truck. It was obvious he was struggling with the weight. He dropped Matt onto something. I couldn't tell what. He picked me up, though and dropped me on top of Matt. It was a wagon of some sort. He used it to drag us to a nice looking house, just shy of being a mansion. It was surrounded by fields on all sides. The only road there was, was a dirt road that seemed to go on forever. It led up to the driveway to the house. A part of me hoped he would take us in, place us into one of the fluffy beds he was sure to have in the obscene amount of bedrooms, but I knew that wasn't practical. What was practical was him wheeling us to the backyard, lifting me up, dragging me through a bush until we reached a hidden cellar, locked with a padlock. I assumed our captor was the only one with the key. He dropped me into the dark room unceremoniously, a loud thud, pain shifting up my leg, through my body. I couldn't cry out. I was trapped inside myself. It was painful. I wanted to cry out, even though it would do me no good. It would at least be something. I could fight, somewhat, instead of just give into him cuffing my leg to a chain on the wall. Once I was situated he gave me a sadistic smile. "You're quite pretty, you know?" I couldn't stop him from lifting my head off the concrete ground and planting a kiss on my lips. I wanted to cry. "It would be a shame to lose you," a sadistic laugh. "Why don't we get your friend?"

He dropped me, dropping me on the cold ground. Hitting my head against the ground. I want to cry. I want to. I want to curl up on my bed with a box of chocolates and a John Green novel. I want to pretend this never happened. I want to go back and time and undo whatever it was that caused me to be punished in this way. 'God,' I pray, 'please. I don't want to die!' I wouldn't say I was overly religious, but having someone to pray to helped. It gave me comfort to believe.

Matt was dropped down like I was. It looked painful. I knew it was. Matt was dragged across the ground, much like I was, until he was locked up on the set of chains next to me. The psychopath didn't even give him a second glance. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see him look at me again. When I heard the cellar door shut once again, I opened my eyes.

I don't know how long it was before I was able to regain control of my body. As soon as Matt started to show signs, I knew it was only a matter of time. The tears came first. Fear enveloped me, capturing me, causing me to shake. It was a panic attack. I wanted Matt to come over, wrap his arms around me, be my friend that I could depend on, but that wasn't possible. The chains we were attached to were too close to the wall to allow us to get close. "Matt," I finally sputtered out, "are we going to die here?"

He looked around, fear obvious on his face, but he would never voice it out loud. "Ash, we'll make it through, somehow."

"Oh gosh-" hiccup. "Matt, I'm sorry!"

He got as close to me as he could. "For what? You didn't do anything."

I shook my head. "I- I should have warned you, or something. I'm such a dumb ass. Matt, if we die... if we die..."

"Shh, Ashley. There was nothing you could have done. We'll get out of this. We have to."

I forced myself to calm down. Matt didn't need to see me cry, though he had several times. I always feel self conscious crying in front of others. I don't want to let that psycho see me cry. Besides, I was running out of tears. I looked around the room, forcing my attention elsewhere. The cellar was a concrete room. Concrete floor, concrete walls, concrete ceiling. There was a few stairs leading to the metal entrance. Three more chains were spread around the room. In the center seemed to be a setup with a camera. Polaroids were taped all over the wall, each depicting torture or a dead body. I shivered. That would probably happen to us. By the stairs was a metal table with what looked like metal tools, varying in size. I recognized some of the tools in the pictures. The light source came from Christmas lights strung across the ceiling. A generator stood humming in the corner. A small air conditioner was connected to it, as well as the Christmas lights. 'How considerate,' I thought bitterly, before I realized that the psycho probably put the unit in here for his own comfort rather than theirs. Was there anyway to get out of this?

Hours passed. Maybe days. Who knows? I was getting hungry and really needed to use the bathroom. I was starting to get bored, which freaked me out. I really had the nerve to get bored while my life is very obviously at risk? While Matt's is? It was almost a relief when the cellar door opened, letting light in. It was daylight streaming in. We had been here a while. One body fell in. It got dragged to the chains on my right. I immediately recognized Josh. He was unable to move, save his eyes. Matt and I looked at one another, neither of us daring to make a sound. Who knows what this maniac would do to us? The psychopath repeated the process, dropping in Hannah, placing her next to Matt, then Jessica, placing her between the Washington's. The maniac left them all alone, I noticed, though he gave me another sickening smile. I shivered. He left us alone.

Matt and I explained what had happened to us, even though they didn't ask. It would probably be better to explain that instead of sitting here in silence. They could fill us in, telling us what happened to them when they regained the ability to speak. Josh was the first one to. He told us that he was texting Chris, who was very concerned that I wasn't texting or calling him back. He said the guy came in, pretending to be a plumber and stuck a needle in his neck. Josh seemed particularly disturbed by this. Ashley knew he hated needles. He did the same thing to Hannah. He assumed Beth was safe because she was at the grocery store getting them ice cream at the time of the kidnapping. Jessica was taken before the Washington's, also under a plumber ruse. He stuck a needle in her neck as soon as she opened the door. "Guys," Jessica asked, "what the hell is going on?"

This got Josh in a frenzy. "Let us out you sick fuck! What do you even want us for?"

The sound of footsteps interrupted Josh's yelling. We all froze, except for Josh, who had his middle finger out to the man. "Well, that isn't very nice, is it?"

Ashley noticed the polaroid hanging around the mans neck. The bastard took a picture of them, getting close to each of them. "Maybe this can serve as a reminder of the last time any of you were completely whole." He walked over to his table by the cellar door, and picked up a rather menacing looking knife. He walked over to Josh, seizing his arm, forcing his hand open. "This should teach you." Josh's screams filled the air as the man hacked at the finger with the knife until the finger fell to the ground.

I felt my heart rate accelerate. Tears were falling down my face. His blood had splashed on me. The maniac turned his attention to me next. "What about you Ashley? What should you lose?"

"No, no please!" He placed his focus on my feet. It just occurred to me I wasn't wearing shoes. "Please, don't!"

He sat on my legs. I couldn't even really fight back. I hadn't eaten. I didn't have the strength to stop him as he started sawing my big toe off my left foot. I just was able to scream, cry, and feel the extreme pain that came with it. The pain lasted an eternity. "Please!" A small thunking sound and a chuckle and he got off of me. I was hyperventilating, clutching my bloody toe. Josh gave me a look of sympathy as he clutched his bloody hand.

The man walked back to his station, placing my toe and Josh's finger on his table. He turned to Jessica. She screamed, cried. I couldn't watch as he hacked at her ear. He didn't even manage to get it off in a single piece. He had to go in for it twice. Jessica's hair was dyed red, matting as the blood clotted. Her screams were terrible. She begged and screamed, knowing it was in vain. I couldn't imagine anything happening worse. He placed the ear pieces on the table and grabbed a pair of silver scissors, thick. He headed straight for Hannah, grabbing her tongue out of her mouth and cutting the tip of it off. It was the quickest of the procedures he had done, but it was the hardest to watch. Hannah flailed, trying to break free, before just submitting to it, allowing him to cut her like a piece of meat. I took a glance over at Matt. Fear was in his eyes. He knew he was next.

The rest of us got off so easy compared to Matt. The man had the scissors he used to cut Hannah's tongue, but there was also what looked to be a spoon. He pinned Matt down. Matt couldn't even fight as the man expertly went in with the spoon towards Matt's eye. I turned away. I couldn't watch as the psycho ignore Matt's screaming and pleading. Eventually Matt went silent and I dared a look. He had passed out, from pain I suppose. It made the psychopath's job easier, but a look of disappointment was on his face. He wanted to hear us scream. The thought made me sick. I would have thrown up if there was anything for me to throw up. I dry heaved instead.

Once his work was finished, he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, not caring if he got them dirty. Blood was splashed across the room. He grabbed his polaroid and took pictures of us once again. It was all I could do to see him leave before I passed out.


	4. Chapter Three- Sam

Chapter Three:

 _"_ _All the worlds a stage, and all the men and women merely players." -William Shakespeare, As You Like It_

I hang up the phone for the third time. It wasn't like Hannah to not answer. Beth came over to my house last night, freaking out because both Hannah and Josh were gone. She came over to my place because she thought it was possible for her twin and her brother to be here. There have been many lazy days here with Hannah and myself, me sitting on the couch, sprawled out, her perching at my side, on the ground, between the coffee table and the couch, or she would be seated on one of the recliners, not forcing it into a reclining position, rather having her feet curled up underneath her while the two of us discussed movies, actors, how our lives were while Criminal Minds or Psych played away on the television, my black and white, eleven year old chihuahua curled up on someone's lap. Occasionally Josh would be on the other recliner, actually in a reclined position, possibly napping. This was probably the scene Beth was expecting to see when she drove up to my house and knocked on my door.

The picture was incomplete. I was sitting on the couch, but on my iPad, watching Good Mythical Morning. No one occupied the space in the two other chairs in the living room. Nothing played on the television. It was just me, alone. It was surprising to see Beth at my door. She would come over and hang out with us, as well. Her and I were friends, but I hung out with her siblings more than I hung out with her. It rarely was just the two of us. "Hey, Beth. Are you okay?" Beth's face was covered in worry lines.

She looked inside my house, inviting herself in, which wasn't unwelcome. I went inside her house all the time without an official invitation. "Are Hannah or Josh here?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't seen them."

She sighed. "Damn. I went to get us ice cream and I got back and they weren't home."

Movie night. I knew the siblings had a weekly movie night where they would just relax and eat pints ice cream. It was Hannah's favorite day of the week. She loved hearing Josh's critiques and Beth telling him to shut up and just enjoy the movie without over analyzing it. She knew Josh loved movie night because he loved having time set aside to spend with his sisters, considering how little their parents were around. Neither if them would just skip it, especially without telling Beth. She wasn't sure what she could do, though. "I'll keep an eye out. I'll call Hannah, too. Go check at Chris' place? Maybe Josh needed something."

Beth nodded. "Alright. Thanks Sam. I'll keep you posted."

When I went to bed that night there was still no sign of Josh of Hannah. Even more, Chris had texted me asking is Ashley was mad at him. She wasn't answering any of his texts. All of this didn't settle well with me.

I woke up the next morning, hearing the doorbell ring. At the doorstep was a package, cardboard, wrapped in heavy brown paper, tied with twine. Tied down was a card, my name typed on a typewriter was on the envelope. I picked up the package and moved inside. It was small, unexpectedly light. I opened the card. A letter, also typed with a typewriter, was in front of me.

Hello Samantha,

By this time you've probably suspected something is going on. Your friends haven't been answering the phone, have they? Follow my instructions exactly and you'll get them back.

1\. Don't contact the police. If they start investigating then all of your friends will die.

2\. Don't tell anyone about this who hasn't also received this letter. You'll know who you can tell shortly.

3\. Don't look for me. As soon as you start looking, I'll kill your friends.

4\. Go to the park closest to your house at eleven this morning. There, you will see those who you can trust with this information.

5\. Don't open the contents of this box until you are in their company. There are five of you total.

I suspect, Samantha, I will see you very soon, though I doubt you'll see me.

Good luck.

My breath had caught. What was going on? Kidnapped? Who was gone? I couldn't ask around. If this was for real, then that would cause whoever was kidnapped to end up dead. My heart speeds up. Hannah and Josh were missing. Ashley wasn't answering Chris' texts. Was anyone else gone? Were they even gone? I don't have to say anything to them, but she could call them, couldn't I?

I pick up my phone, scroll through my contacts, hitting Ashley first. Ring. Ring. Four more times. No answer. I sighed, trying to not let my imagination run wild. I called Hannah next. Seven rings. No answer. This is all just a coincidence, isn't it? I feel my hand shaking, scrolling to Josh. No. He'll answer. He has to. Ring. Ring. Ring. Beep.

I look at the time. Ten thirty. My heart is speeding up. I have to figure out what is going on. I have to! I go to my closet and pull on the first shirt and pair of shorts I can find: a pair of camo shorts and a pale red, loose crop top. I don't bother with hair or makeup. I usually try to take some pride in my appearance, but I'm not concerned today. I just have to get to the park, see who's there. Hannah, Josh, please be there.

They aren't though. I get there. I'm the last one to arrive. Mike and Emily are speaking to one another heatedly. I have no doubt that they would be yelling at each other, if it weren't for the fact there were families around. That was smart of whoever sent those letters. We wouldn't be able to determine who they were. Beth and Chris were comforting each other, Beth trying to hold back tears, Chris hugging her like he was her brother. It was unusual to see Beth cry. Everyone turns their attention to me when I get here. I notice everyone has packages, all wrapped the same way mine is. Emily is the first to speak up. "Let's get this over with."

She would never admit it, but she's terrified. We all look at one another, before Chris finally grabs his box. "We won't know anymore until we look." He opened his box. His face pales. No color. I brace myself as I open my own box. I wasn't prepared for what I'd see.

There are pictures of Josh, Ashley, Jessica, Hannah and Matt. All of them were chained to a wall. They looked tired. All were bloody, with tear stained faces. I shake my head. This wasn't real. I look at the pictures, flipping them over, as much as it pains me. There is blood on the photos, but words written on the back. 'I'll see you soon.'

"What does he mean they'll see us soon?" Emily asks.

I shake my head. "I guess we'll find out." I hope so at least. Those images have been burned in my head forever. If that's how they look now, what's going to happen to them? How can we save them? I feel myself shaking. Please, hang on everyone. We'll get you all, somehow.

 **Sorry this chapter is so much shorter. This next chapter should be a lot longer! I hope you all enjoyed it, anyway. Things are starting to pick up next chapter.**


	5. Chapter Four- Jessica

**In this story Josh is diagnosed with depression and anxiety, not schizophrenia. I'm sorry if this upsets anyone, but I feel like that would be the most beneficial to this story.**

Chapter Four:

 _"_ _To be, or not to be: that is the question." William Shakespeare, Hamlet_

I wake up. I don't know how long I've been down here. I don't know how long I've been hurting. I do know the bleeding from my ear has stopped. I know there's a bandage wrapped around my head. The guy who brought us here wrapped up our injuries after he took his sick pictures. I don't know why he did that, though. Why would he wrap us up if he was just going to kill us later?

It terrible that I know everyone around me. It's terrible because if I see them die, then it'll be that much harder for me to move away, move past what's happened to them, what's happened to us. I don't want them to watch me die either. Why are we here? What does this guy want with us?

I'm distracted from my thoughts by the sound of someone next to me moving around, starting to wake up. I'm a morning person. I always have been. I have to be if I want to make sure I loo perfect before I go about my day, or go for a run, or go grab a drink from Starbucks. It's a habit I haven't broken. I know all my friends who are here aren't morning people. Most of them could sleep the entire day away. Emily was the only one I could count on to go out with me and talk about boys over a soy green tea frap.

I miss her. I forget she hates me now. She has a right to. I basically stole her boyfriend from her. Mike broke up with her and two days after that we started seeing one another. It was secret, of course, but when she found out she cut all ties with me. She started dating Matt out of revenge, because he was my best friend, but he was also naive enough to not realize he was just going to be another guy on her lists of fucks.

I look at Matt. Hannah is between me and him, but she doesn't block my view. In fact, I can see him perfectly. He's curled up on the floor, in a tight ball. His body is facing the wall, his hands are over his face. Why did he do that to Matt? What did Matt do to deserve that? He's easily one of the best guys I know. When he started dating Emily, he didn't even realize her and I were pissed at each other. He came to me to talk about it. He was so excited. He had his big brown eyes in his perfected puppy dog look. He was going on and on about how she had asked him out, and how he had been crushing on her since she was dating Mike, but he wasn't going to do anything about it because she was with another guy. He just saw the good parts of Emily, though. He saw her for her beauty and brains. He saw her resourcefulness and persuasive ability. He didn't notice her insults, her ability to make people feel completely inadequate. He did see the way she was loyal, though. Matt would never see her the same way, if we got out of this.

I still think about Emily. Memories of her, Sam, Ash, Hannah, Beth and I, going to lunch together every wednesday in high school because that was halfway through the week and we could gossip. The guys would try to sneak in, listen in on us, Chris and Josh especially, but Emily would chase them off, saying it was girls day. If someone started crying she wouldn't be the first to offer them a tissue -Sam- or a hug -Ashley- but she would be the first to offer to go kick whoever was responsible's ass. Damn. Why did I fuck up our friendship? We had always promised one another "sisters before misters." Look where that got us. It's probably too late now. Does she even miss me? Would she even care if I died down here? Would Mike care?

I stole Mike from Emily, but I know there are real feelings there. Is he the best lay I've ever had in my life? Oh, most definitely, but I know I would still like him, even if he wasn't a wizard in the bedroom. Hell, he could pull out his dick, wave it like a wand, yell all the Harry Potter, abracadabra crap that Chris and Ash were always going on about, and I would still be turned on. He was amazing in bed, but he was a gentleman to me outside. He would open doors for me, open the car door for me, give me his jacket if I was ever cold, let me borrow his t-shirts when I slept over... He would send me a text saying "Good Morning Beautiful ;)" when he woke up, usually several hours after I've been up, as well as send me a text telling me goodnight. He made my stomach flutter whenever he was around.

Does Mike miss me? Did I do enough for him? I feel like such a loser. He was always the one taking care of me. What did I do for him? Blowjobs? He could get that from pretty much anybody. I know there's a line of girls just wanting to hook up with him. I think back to one of the last happy days we all hung out as a group. Emily and Mike were still dating. We were bowling. None of us had any skill, so we put the guard rail up. Ashley kicked ass two out of the three games, Matt winning the third. A group of three girls, probably fourteen or fifteen, kept coming by our lane. They were lowering their sweaters, showing as much cleavage as possible, bending over as they "accidentally" dropped their phones by Mike three or four times. When their antics got old, Mike respectfully told them that he had a girlfriend -who was seething on the bowling lane, probably putting the girls faces onto the bowling pins, she got a strike- so he wasn't interested. He did tell them that they looked lovely before sending them on their way, even though they looked like little hookers. Did I dress like that when I was fourteen? I sighed. Mike was a good guy, even if everyone can't see it. I wonder if he sent me a goodnight text. I wonder if he sent me a good morning one?

The cellar door opens and I'm pulled away from my thoughts. Everyone else was asleep, but they start to stir awake, trying to appear strong, but all with great difficulty. I wonder if I look as tragic as they all do? Matt looks miserable. He'll never have that perfect puppy dog look again. We all look miserable. I try to sit up straighter, make myself appear like none of this is a big deal, but I have to fight the urge to curl up and shrink away to do so. Is it wrong to notice that the man is humming? I can almost place the song. It's on the tip of my tongue. I spare a glance at Hannah. Inappropriate choice of words, even if it is just in my head. Frere Jacques. That's what he is humming! How could a song that is usually for children send so many chills down my spine. He looks over all of us. I notice the lingering looks he gives to Ashley. I feel horrible thinking it, but better her than me. I don't want that attention. The guy pulls out his camera and snaps pictures of us, before setting plates of who knows what in front of us. "Eat," he says, "you'll need your strength."

He leaves the room. I notice no one touches the food. Not yet, at least. How long before he breaks us? How long before we're begging for the relief of death? "Guys," I speak quietly. None of us have really spoken since we were all brought here. We were too scared after what he did to us. I'm still terrified. Is it insensitive of me? Hannah might never speak again. Everything crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Before this moment, everything felt like this nightmare, like I was in a daze. There was a possibility I could wake up in my bed, have both of my ears, no one is hurt. That possibility is gone. I shake my head. This couldn't be happening. My eyes fill with tears. What do I do? What the fuck do I do? "Guys? What did we do to deserve this? Are we really that fucked up that this is justice somehow?" I might not be a saint, but I don't think I'm evil. I know no one else here is evil. Josh and Chris may pull the occasional prank, but is that's all it takes... Fuck!

"I- I don't know." It's Josh. I don't know who else would have responded. He's been holding his head in his hands for a while. He hasn't been speaking, but he has been muttering to himself. I remember that he has anxiety, needs to take medication, Beth's told me about it, so I'm sure he hasn't had his pills. This has got to be rough.

"Can we get out of here?" I know the answer. I know we can't, but asking, like we have some sort of hope, is all I can do. No one answers my plea. I don't blame them. It's a stupid question. We'll just have to sit here, silent, waiting as our fate is decided for us. I look at the questionable food in front of me. No one has touched their plates. I reach for mine. If I die, then at least I'll go quickly. Someone, please, find us.

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	6. Chapter Five- Mike

**I hope everyone had a great Independence Day (if that applies to you) and if not then I hope you had a great 4th of July anyway!**

Chapter Five:

 _"_ _Love all, trust few, do wrong to none." -William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well_

I immediately jump up off my couch when I hear a knock at my door. There's a part of my that is hoping I can catch this fucker in the act, stop him before he can do anything. We had all decided to go our separate ways after the park, not because we wanted to separate, but because we thought we would cover more ground this way. I open the door only to see there is no one there. A letter with my name is lying on my doorstep. I pick it up, taking a deep breath. Jessica and the others have been missing for three days now. None of us have heard anything. I hope this is something.

A box is on my doorstep. It's the size of a shoebox, wrapped in that same brown butcher paper and tied with a piece of twine. The twine is holding down an envelope, my name written with a typewriter on the cover. I lean down and pick up the box, my hands shaking. I have to open this box, though, if I am going to save Jessica, if I am going to save anyone.

Mike,

Take what is in this box and use it against Emily. I know the two of you are having an affair. Let's see who means the most to you.

You have two hours.

Good Luck.

No. No fucking way. I open the box and there sits a gun. I back away. I have to kill Emily? No! Hell no. I cannot do that. I will not go down to his level.

What if I don't, though? What if I don'y kill her? How many people will die? Who will die? Jessica? I might be ready to admit that I have stronger feelings for her than I let on. She knows this. Hell, I've been sending her those stupid text messages even though I know she can't read them because I know when she gets out she'll be happy to see I did that for her. I said when Jessica gets out. Not if. Have I made my decision?

No. I can't shoot Emily. There's something there too. Her and I fuck on occasion, but that really don't mean anything. She will listen, though, when I am having problems, and I let her bitch to me. Honestly, she is my best friend.

I can see what this maniac is making me do. He's making me choose: Jessica or Emily.

I can't. I can't choose. What if I choose to save Jessica and kill Emily? It's not guaranteeing her safety. Everyone else is probably going to have to get involved somehow. What if they fuck up? What if Jessica dies anyway? So I choose to save Emily and not shoot her. Then that means I am the reason Jessica is dead. That means I am the reason anyone could be dead, honestly. I could save Emily and condemn the others. Five dead to save one life? Is that really right?

I have to look out for everyone. That's what I do. I act like some guardian to all of them so I can tell them all it's okay, that everything is going to be alright. I need to be that person now. How can I be though when it's the life of someone I care about so much? That's what it means to be everyone's protector.

They're down there. Josh, who I can let loose with, Ashley, who is like a younger sister to me, Matt, who I know I can depend on even when he and I don't see eye to eye, Hannah, who, despite everything, makes me want to look out for her, and Jessica, who I don't love, but I feel like I could one day. I have to do it.

I need to talk to someone. Am I really willing to commit murder for this? Who can I call? Sam would tell me nothing is worth murder, but Beth would tell me I need to do whatever it takes. Chris would probably be where I am now, not sure what to do about this.

I look at my phone. It's been almost thirty minutes of me debating who I am going to kill. I know who I have to call. It only takes one ring for them to pick up. "Mike?"

"Emily," I sigh, "I got a package from him. What he is telling me to do will, well, it will hurt someone really close to me. Should I go for it?"

She doesn't even take a second to debate it over. "Michael, if they care about you, then they will have your back, no matter what it is. If they don't then they need to get over themselves because this is bigger than us."

I nod. I was afraid this would be the kind of response she would have. "Can, can you come over? I can't so this alone."

"I'll be there in five." She hangs up the phone and I know she is on her way out to her black car with it's black leather seats that was always kept in perfect condition, with an inside that always smelled like pine. Would Emily forgive me for this? Fuck! I punch the wall, managing to make a sizable hole, as well as causing a few of the knuckles to bleed. It doesn't matter.

I look at the box. The gun is still there. I pick it up and move it somewhere Emily won't notice. The last thing she needs to see is me with a gun. I shake my hand. Damn, it hurts. That should be the least of my concerns now. There is a knock on my door before she comes barging in. "Hey, Mike."

I try to give her a look like nothing is wrong. "Hey, Em."

"Hey. Go ahead and go to the garage. I'll be there in a second."

She nods and heads that way. I pick up the gun and aim it behind her. She doesn't suspect a thing. I need to pull the trigger before she notices anything, before she reaches the door for the garage. I'm sorry. I pull the trigger, gun in my left hand because of the bleeding knuckles from before.

I don't expect the gun to backfire, but I am relieved when it does. I can't hear anything because of the ringing in my ears, and my eye sight is blurry. I am vaguely aware of a searing pain in my left hand, but I ignore it. I am happy. I had to sacrifice myself instead of my girlfriend or my best friend. I close my eyes. Thank everything that is fucking good in life.

 **I am sorry this chapter isn't longer, because I honestly thought it would be, but I hope you're all happy with it anyway! I'll y'all Thursday!**


	7. Chapter Six- Josh

**Sorry it's late! I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Six:

 _"_ _For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." -William Shakespeare, Hamlet_

I pass in and out of consciousness. All of us do. There isn't anything for us to do here but sleep and wonder what the hell we did wrong to get us in this mess. I look at my sister. Her hair is messy. Her mouth is covered in blood. She hasn't made a sound since that man came in here and took everything away form us. What did we fucking do? A knocking on the cellar door keeps me away from speculating, not that I'm much good at that anyway. "Rise and shine. I've got some news for ya!" Everyone started to rise, some more slowly than others, Ashley being the last to. "Ya here me? Get up, girl!" He gave her a swift kick to the head, right where her eye is. It'll probably bruise. No doubt she'll have a black eye.

Words can't describe what I want to do. I want to go inside my mind, let every nightmare that consumes me at night come out and attack this man. I want him to sit here, like we are, sitting in a concrete cavern that smells like blood, piss and shit. I wish I could take those eyes out of his head, not because I want to get revenge for Matt's sake, but because I want him to never lay eyes on us again. I don't know what any of us did to deserve being in this hell, to deserve feeling like shit. I spare a glance at Ashley, as she clutches her eye. I can see tears falling, staining the ground. She's been through this longer than any of us have. I want to save her. I want to save Hannah. I want to save Jessica and Matt. I want to get out of this place and just forget anything ever happened. Could I still go grab McDonalds with Chris, play video games and just talk about whatever random shit comes into our heads? Could I sit and let my worries melt away with Hannah and Beth as we watch a movie night and eat obscene amounts of ice cream? Could life ever go back to some kind of normal? Somehow, I doubt it.

I look at the man, now standing in the center of the room, looking us all over with this terrifying smile that could give the Joker a run for his money. He looks each of us over, smiling at his handiwork. He probably feels some sort of sick pride in this. I wonder if he's getting off on this? I let out an involuntary shiver when I realize he probably does.

He turns his attention to me when I give that shaking movement, that sickening smile leaving his face. "Cold, Joshua?"

I refuse to look at him. I direct my attention to the ground. "No."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" His scream fills the cellar, his voice echoing off the walls, causing everyone to flinch. I don't lift my head. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of complete control. Instead, I lift my eyes. "Are you _cold,_ Joshua?"

"No. I'm fine."

He gets closer to me, crouching so he's eye level with me. "See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" I say nothing. The man turns away and looks us all over once again. "I wanted to talk with you, my little subjects." Subjects? Subjects for what? "While you are all down here, I've been giving your friends an opportunity to... to help you escape. I give them a task, and if they complete it correctly, you get to go home. If they refuse then I kill one of you."

My heart pounds in my chest. The others are involved, somehow. I wonder what he is making them do. Is Beth okay? Chris? Sam? Will they get out of this?

"I'm telling you this because one of your friends had to do their challenge this morning." We all freeze. I feel my heart beating faster in my chest. "They're in the hospital, suffering from a severe concussion, as well as missing two of their fingers on their left hand." I feel sick. Was this Beth? Would Beth do that to save us? I have no doubts. I know Beth would do whatever she could to save us. Is this her? Is it Chris? Sam? "They'll recover. They played by all my rules. They saved one of you."

I let out a sigh of relief. Even if it was Beth, it's good to know she'll get better. One of us that's in here will get out as well. Whoever it is can get out and turn this bastard in, save the rest of us. "Who was it?" I ask.

He lets out a laugh. "Like I'll tell you. You're all going to stay here until my game is over."

He thinks of this as a game? What the hell? This guy is nuts! "Game? Is that all this is to you? We're people! We had lives! You're going to fuck everything up for all of us just so you can get off?"

The man's sick smile returns. "Why don't you look at the walls? See all those pictures? Those are all my different game pieces. I take pictures so I never forget a game." He walks over to the wall, stopping at a picture with a girl, easily very pretty when she isn't covered in blood. She looks a lot like Sam, except with bigger eyes. "This is Danielle. She was from a game, let's see, five years ago? No, six now." He turns his attention to another girl in a picture next to her, also very pretty, dark hair that goes past her shoulders. "Nicole. Seven years ago." He turns his attention back to me. "Joshua, I could go on and on about all the different people in here. You're all pieces of my game, yes, but you're all immortalized down here, dead or alive." He pauses. "I will say most of the people on this wall are dead. I'm very good at playing my game."

With that he turns and goes. There is nothing but silence in here. One of us is alive, but the rest of us are still in the air. We're all still in danger. What he said was true. He is very good at his game.


	8. Chapter Seven- Emily

Chapter Seven:

 _"_ _Have more than you show, and speak less than you know." -William Shakespeare, King Lear_

It's funny. Life was normal last week. We were all care free relatively speaking. Our biggest worries were our class schedules for getting back to school. Hell, I remember Ashley freaking out because her payment had still not gone through and there "would be no way she would be able to get all the classes she needed to take this semester." I told her to calm the fuck down. Why the hell would I say that? That might have been the last fucking thing I said to her.

Last time I said to Ashley was she needed to calm the fuck down. What were the other last words I said to the others? Not to be morbid... Just in case. I need to make amends, in case any of us die. Oh hell. Josh. I can think about Josh. Josh. What was the last thing I said to Josh? When was the last time I saw him? We were at his house. Beth, Matt, Mike, Jess and I were arguing about something... what was it? Damn. It was probably something I was just too stubborn to admit I was wrong about. Josh intervened and tried to calm us all down, tell us we were all right and we were all wrong. We just needed to understand one another's perspective. "You can shove your words up your ass, Josh." Shit. Hannah was right after that tried to console me. "Get away from me!" I hadn't hung out with Jessica since then either. Our fight... "You're not going to amount to anything once your looks fade, you dumb bitch." That was when Josh cut in.

I feel myself tear up. Don't cry, Em. I can't show signs of weakness. But is weakness the same thing as bitchiness? I don't even know anymore. I'm afraid to think of the last thing I said to Matt. I went home as soon as Hannah tried to comfort me, but Matt came over later, stopped by the house my parents have. I'm staying here for the summer, better than going through an application to get an apartment for the summer. My parents weren't home when Matt came over. Naturally, we fucked. We fucked in the kitchen, the couch, the shower, my parents bed... anywhere really. Last words I said to Matt? He had to leave because my parents were coming home and while they can't tell me otherwise, I'd rather be on their good side, still have access to the credit card. "Love ya, Big Guy."

Neither of us had said love to one another. I guess that was the last thing I said to him. I guess I feel slightly better knowing I'm not the shittiest person in the world. Still, knowing everyone else... it stings. If we get out of this, I'm going to make amends.

It's almost perfect that there is a knock on my door. I open the door to see the brown box, wrapped in butcher paper, tied with a bit of twine. There's the letter with my name on it. I wonder if Mike got this? I'll probably go visit him in the hospital if I make it out of this...

Emily,

You're so picky about everything. Picky about your friends. Picky about your clothes. You're impossible to deal with. For some reason, your friends actually like you. I have no idea why, if I'm too be completely frank with you. Maybe it's because you're loyal to them? How loyal are you?

You are to eat what is inside the box. You have one hour from the time you open it. No heating up. No refrigeration. Nothing. Eat every bit.

Good Luck.

My hands are shaking as I open the box. It has a bit of weight to it. What do I have to eat? The first thing I notice is the smell. Blood. I feel sick. I can't. I can't. What the hell? I can't! I walk over to my kitchen, grabbing a plate. This sicko said nothing against silverware. Fuck. I feel nauseous.

I get the plate and get back to the box, pulling out things one by one. There's a finger... "Oh, disgusting! What the hell? Holy shit!" Does this belong to the others? Oh damn. I don't know if I can do this. There's a toe... Nail and bone in all. What looks like an ear, hacked into pieces. I really don't fucking know if I can do this. I resist the urge to vomit as I pull out the piece of tongue. How could he do this? I'm hoping there's nothing else inside. Please, I'm praying, don't let there be anything in there. The last thing in there is an eye.

The edges of my vision start to go fuzzy. I need to eat these? I pick up the finger, raising it to my mouth. I get it on my tongue before the world goes completely dark.

I wake up to the sound of my door closing. I bolt up. I have to save the others! I have to do... do something! I have to... Where? Where are they? The body parts? They aren't there! There's a letter, though.

Emily,

It's such a shame. I expected more from you. You passed out within the first three minutes. You slept through your whole challenge. Your friends are going to be so disappointed in you. But I'll bet you're more disappointed in yourself, aren't you? Do you think your friends will forgive you? I wonder...

Sincerely Yours.

I have to be strong. I can't cry. I cannot cry. Yet I do. Tears fall. I'm gasping. I am hyperventilating. Calm the fuck down. You can shove your words up your ass, Josh. Get away from me. You're not going to amount to anything once your looks fade, you dumb bitch. Love ya, Big Guy. These words repeat over and over in my head, pounding at me. Why does each hurt worse than the last? Shit. I'm sorry! I didn't want this to happen. Oh hell.

 **Tell me what y'all think! I'll see y'all** **Thursday!**


	9. Chapter Eight- Matt

Chapter Eight:

 _"_ _God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." -William Shakespeare, Hamlet._

I hear him come in, descending down the stairs, each step making a louder sound than the last one. I refuse to open my eyes- well, eye. I don't think I'll ever get used to the only having one eye thing. It's such a change from everything, though I didn't expect it to be. I pray Josh doesn't try to pick a fight with the man again. I doubt Josh will get out of being screwed over more than once. He got lucky the first time, but twice? I really doubt it.

I wonder if we're ever going to figure out why this is happening? Game pieces... That's not much of an explanation. I shiver every time I look at the pictures on the wall, seeing some bodies horribly disfigured, intestines ripped out. I see a picture with black mascara dripping down a girl's face from crying. I see a group of people at a bowling alley... What the hell? That's us. He's targeted us for that long? That was months ago, before we realized how expensive bowling really was. I stop my wandering eye and turn my attention to the man. He's walking around, a smirk on his face. "Well, it seems we had another challenge today. They responded differently, though. Very differently. I imagine that you were all thinking because one of you was safe you're all going to get out of here alive. Your friend today proved that wasn't the case. They caused one of you to die." He pauses, looking us each over in turn, relishing in the faces of terror we all have plastered on our faces.

He paces around, letting out laughter. There is a knife in his hand. "Who is it then?" He turn to Josh, his eyes wide, crazy. "Is it you? Anything to say today, Josh? You've made this game so fun, haven't you!" He holds the knife to Josh's neck. "Fight back, Josh! Come on!" Josh refuses to give him the satisfaction. He won't fight back because he's afraid. He doesn't fight back because that's letting him win. Instead, Josh just sits there. I still don't understand how there is still fire in his eyes. The light has faded from the rest of ours days ago. Maybe because he feels like he needs to protect.

The man loses interest and moves over to Jess, a wicked smile on his face. "What about you? Are you afraid to die, Jessica? Can you face my knife?" Her reaction makes much more sense to me. When the knife is held up to her neck she recoils, trying to get away from the cold metal. He laughs and runs his fingers through Jess's hair, avoiding the part that is matted with blood. "Don't cry Jessica. You're safe... for now." He brushes his fingers over where her missing ear is, causing her to cringe, half in pain, half disgust. She doesn't have fire like Josh does, but I can see a spark, a whisper of her old self coming back.

Hannah was just the opposite. I've never seen someone look so defeated. She had a look of sadness on her face that I've never seen anyone else have. She was worried about her twin. She was worried about her brother. I know out of all the Washington's, Hannah is the one that is the most in tune with everyone. She feeds off the emotions of other people, letting everyone else's strengths fill her, give her energy to get through the day, but it's also everyone else's energy that will defeat her. Obviously, in this situation, it will be the latter. She hasn't even attempted to say anything since we were mangled. I know it would be difficult for her to speak, but Hannah always had a word to put into a conversation. She didn't have that, not even at the rare moments when the rest of us spoke to one another, holding comfort. "Hannah. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Are you going to be my special little victim today?" She was expressionless. Her dark hair hung in an oily mess around her face. Her glasses were askew. She hadn't bothered to clean them since we got here. There are blood splatters obscuring her vision. She couldn't care less. He gets off on seeing her so sad. "Oh, Hannah. You don't need to worry. You're fine."

I look to my right. Tears are filling Ashley's eyes as she looks at me. One of us. It's her or me. The man twirls the knife around as he stands between the two of us, a menacing smile on his face. "Ashley. Matt. Matt. Ashley. Which one? Which one?" A cry escapes Ashley and the man turns to face her. "Oh, poor, poor Ashley. Are you scared?" She says nothing. "Answer me!"

She lets out a small noise. "Y-yes. I'm scared."

He continues to twirl the knife, crouching down so he's eye level with Ashley. "Why is that?" Her eyes land on the knife, before they find the maniac's eyes. "Of course." He let's out a sickening smile. "I'll you choose how I do it." She lets out a sob as he presses the knife against her neck. "Should I slice across like this, Ashley?" He puts the knife to her throat, lightly tracing a horizontal line. "Should I open the wrists and bleed them out?"

She shakes her head. "Please, don't do this!"

He picks up her foot, the one with all its toes. "Maybe I'll cut right here. The achilles? I hear the foot is basically worthless after that?" She sniffles, trying to keep her composure. It's hard to watch. "Come on, Ashley. I'm letting you choose. Should I carve out the heart?" He presses the knife to her left breast. He must know that's not the exact location anatomically. This is too much.

"L-leave her alone." I'm surprised by my voice speaking up. I know it has to be pointless.

He gives me a cruel smile. "Why the rush, Matt? She's picking out your death."

The last moments of my life are in shock. I can hear the others protesting, even Hannah. Ashley and Jessica are crying. Josh is yelling. I barley process anything until I feel him attack my achilles. I, somehow, have accepted my death. In this state of numbness I just pray, blocking out the world around me, preparing to go to whatever is ahead of me. Will I go to Heaven? I think of all my friends. I feel sorry that they have to watch this. I hope they can see the peace that is in my mind. I'm vaguely aware I'm screaming and writing in agony, but I'm not focused on the physical. I just need to escape this world. When my throat is finally split, I'm ready.


	10. Chapter Nine- Chris

Chapter Nine:

 _"_ _Friendship is constant in all other things, save in the office and affairs of love." -William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing._

I wouldn't say I'm overly religious. I believe there is a god, or some all powerful being watching over us. I'm not devout in my religion at all. I'm the person that would go to church on Easter and call it good for another year. I was, at least, until Ashley. I wouldn't call her overly religious either, but she prayed every night, and during the school year she goes to church at least twice a month. She'll try to drag me with her. She's a good person. She sees good in the world, looks at the positive in every situation. I'm not sure how she does it. I don't see any good here. Does she?

I'm sitting in Mike's living room. His left hand is covered with stark white bandages and a cast, covering the broken bones in his hand, as well as covering the two new missing fingers. He's been comforting Emily ever since she found out she failed what she was supposed to do. I don't think I've ever seen Emily cry, but here she is, sitting on the edge of Mike's couch, sobbing into a pillow. She occasionally yells a profanity. All of us are here, crowded into the room. Mike is on Emily's right, Sam on her left. Beth is sitting on the edge of the recliner, focusing on Emily, but eyes occasionally darting around the room, as if she's on edge. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking at the usually strong, independent girl. She usually would never take this from anyone, whether she needed it or not. Mike keeps trying to comfort her, but there is a look in his eye, like there's something wrong. He and Emily have always been close, even after they broke up. They always lose themselves in one another, finding the best and worst of themselves. Seeing him be this reluctant with her, something's wrong. I walk over to him. "Mike, hey, I need to talk to you. Anyway I can borrow you for a sec?"

He gives a look at Emily, who is looking up at me with red rimmed eyes. She nods at Mike and he gets up. I've never seen her surrender something so easily. Beth quickly takes Mike's spot on the couch, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades and Mike and I head back to his room. "Are you okay, man? You're acting strange."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, this whole fucking situation is strange, isn't it?"

I nod, trying to not think of the repercussions of Emily's failure. I try to not imagine Ashley or Josh somewhere, cut up in pieces, bloody and broken. I push the thoughts away. I need to be focused. I know I'm coming up, eventually. If I'm not focused someone could die. I can't let someone's death be on me. Seeing how Emily has reacted... She's stronger than me. I don't think I could even bear it. "Mike," I say, distracting myself, "what happened? You never really told us. You just said that the maniac did that to you," I say, referencing the busted hand and bruises that litter the left side of his face.

He shakes his head. "It was just a bomb, dude. Small one. It didn't kill me, obviously. It just knocked me out. I was lucky Em was there. She called an ambulance and came up with some story that I don't really know all the details to. She was able to convince them, though." He took a breath. "Dude, I need to tell someone. I can't keep it bottled in. You can't tell anyone, especially Em, okay?"

From the look in his eyes I can tell he's about to tell me what exactly happened during his trail. "I got this box from him, okay? So I read this letter and it tells me I basically have to kill Emily or kill the kidnapped people, so I was given this gun inside the box. I called Emily and asked her advice, without telling her the details, you know? And she said I should go for it, so I asked her to come over, and I aimed the gun at her, pulled the trigger, and boom. This bomb goes off. I was relieved." He pauses and looks at me, his expression grim. "I was going to shoot her. I was going to fucking shoot her, Chris! I pulled the trigger and everything. I thought she was going to die. I deserved what I got, man. I deserved every damn stitch."

I don't know what to say. Mike almost murdered Emily, but he did it to protect the people who went missing. Does that justify anything? I think back to the 10 Commandments. We're learning about them at Ashley's church right now. I'm pretty sure one of them is thou shall not murder, or something like that. Is it really murder if it's protection? I just need to focus on the fact that Emily isn't dead. "I won't tell her, man. This whole thing has been hard on us." Mike says nothing, and instead looks at the ground. He's ashamed. He'll probably blame himself for the rest of his life. The two missing fingers will forever be a reminder of what he was capable of doing. He'll have to live with that for the rest of his life.

Mike turns his attention towards me, again, a fierce look in his eyes. "Chris, we can't let this guy change us. We have to be strong, because God knows we'll have to be the strong ones once we get the others back."

I morbidly think _if_ we get them back, but I know we will. I need Josh and Ashley. I don't know what I would do if they were gone forever. Hell, all for I know they could be. I take a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling as I do so. _God,_ I start praying silently, _if you're really there, please keep them safe. I don't know what I would do without them._ I look at Mike and nod. "We'll be strong."


	11. Chapter Ten- Ashley

Chapter Ten:

 _"_ _Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once." -William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar_

He's come down three times since Matt was killed. He looked at all of us, giving us each a horrible smile, a lick of his lips, or a wink. He didn't bother to move Matt's body, either. He just let it lay in front of us, blood pouring out of every cut and onto the floor. Sitting next to him, the crimson quickly reached me, staining the already filthy clothes I was wearing red. If our little cellar didn't smell bad before, it certainly did now. Seeing someone who was once one of my closest friends get whittled down to nothing but a shell of his former self... It's depressing. I feel myself getting chills. I don't know if enough scrubbing will ever get his blood off of me. I don't know if any amount of therapy will ever get the screaming out of my ears. I wonder what kind of monster this man is? Or if I can even call him a monster. This man dragged out the killing for so long, taking his sweet time with each little piece. He missed major blood veins, causing Matt to not die, but simply cause him immense pain. I wonder what Matt's last thoughts were. His last words were screaming, pleading. Could he hear us calling to him? It was almost a relief when Matt died. The suffering he had to endure was over at least. The view I had when Matt's achilles was cut clean through will give me nightmares for weeks. That's assuming I have weeks in the future. I could die any day.

When Matt died the man cut open his chest, ripping through the ribcage with a hammer and handsaw, pulling out organs I would never be able to identify in a million years. I wanted to look away, ignore the vandalism that was happing to Matt's body, but it was like a car accident. I couldn't look away. He ripped out what might have been lungs, as well as the liver, throwing the organs in my general direction. I was lucky. I was only covered in blood. Josh was hit with a couple of organs. I'm not sure which is worse, to be honest. Both are terrible. I pray none of the rest of us meet Matt's fate. The man was rummaging, looking for something. He found it and a smile stayed secured on his face. In his hand was the heart. He looked at me, cold eyes staring. "I asked to cut out his heart."

I'm shaking. I can feel eyes burning at me furiously. This was my fault. I caused Matt to die. I know I didn't, in all actuality, but it feels like the reason he is dead is because I wasn't strong enough to stop him.

The first time the man came down since leaving us with the shattered, looted corpse of Matt, he put a plate of food in front of each of us, not that any of us had an appetite. The food was simply a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, something I wouldn't have eaten in my old life, simply because I was picky as all hell in the world I used to live in, but I don't eat it now for a different reason. I see the red that comes from the jelly and I immediately think of blood that covers the floor around me. I ignore the rumbling in my stomach and dismiss the food. The man takes the food away from all of us when we're done. I'm not the only one who hasn't eaten.

The second time the man came down he had a water hose attached to a garden sprayer. He hosed us down, soaking us with the hardest jet stream he could. Purple bruises formed where the water hit suddenly, much too hard. I know he didn't hose down the room for our sake, but for his. The smell was atrocious. I could tell exactly when night was because wild dogs liked to come sniffing and barking at the top of the cellar, making small growls and howls to signal at each other. I would hear them pawing at the cellar door. What would be better? Death by killer or death by wild dog? I know they would both hurt like hell, but the latter would at least serve a purpose, become a meal for some poor creature that needs it. I can't believe my life has gotten to a point where I feel like getting eaten alive by dogs is a favorable death.

The last time the man came in he cleaned his tools. Why is he so particular about his tools? He has to dispose of them, doesn't he? If he has them and is discovered with them then he is obviously the killer, but he covers his tracks so well. There's got to be a reason no one has found us yet. Where are the cops? Weren't the FBI supposed to come in and stop the man from killing Matt in the last second, saving his life? I don't know. I've been watching too much Criminal Minds. I wonder if I'll ever finish that show. I look around the room. There's a twenty-fiver percent chance I'll get out of here. Maybe more if the others pass their particular tests. I wonder what hell they have to go through. Is it worse than ours?

I wonder if Chris will save me. For some reason I know he's the one that has to come for me. I just know it. If this man has been watching us as much as I think he has, then he knows the feelings I have for him. I'm naive, but I'm not blind. I know Chris has feelings for me too. The two of us are just too shy to act on them. If I get out of here I won't let that hold me back. I want to be in his arms. I want to get out of here. I want to live! Is that too much? Is it?


	12. Chapter Eleven- Beth

**Sorry it is late! The hotel I was at last night had terrible wifi.**

Chapter Eleven:

 _"_ _Better three hours too soon than a minute too late." -William Shakespeare, The MErry Wives of Windsor_

I stretch as I wake up, letting this calm sense that has come over me take over my entire being. I enjoy the moment before it dissolves away, because it always does. It's hard to feel relief or even brief moments of joy while I'm living like this. I miss Hannah. She's a huge part of me. I am not myself while she is gone. I need to do whatever it takes to get her back, but I'm not sure what that entails. I miss Josh, as well. He's the constant in my life that keeps me afloat. With both him and Hannah gone I'm lost at sea, struggling to keep my head above water. I feel like I"m drowning in a sea of my own tears every night. I don't cry, or, at least, I didn't cry. I never felt the need to because Hannah would cry for the both of us, and Josh would protect us. Crying was pointless. I don't have them here with me now, though, and I am completely lost. That's why I enjoy this brief moment, this moment between dreams and reality. It's the only moment where nothing is real. I still have everyone that means something to me. I have everything important.

I come crashing back to reality after a few, brief, moments of bliss. I'm in my bed. I'm here in the house alone. Mom and Dad are in LA. Dad is working on some big new project that is "better than anything he has ever worked on before." He says that every time he starts something. I stopped believing him a long time ago. They're never better. They just have bigger budgets and bigger names. I haven't told them that Hannah and Josh are missing. There's a part of me that thinks Dad won't even care. Mom would rush home and have an entire police force looking for them. Police means death. Can't have that. A part of me wonders what the other parents are wondering. I know Ashley's parents have probably caught on that something is up. Matt's... who knows. His Dad is a drunk unless football is related. He doesn't really care about his son. His mom left several years ago. Jessica's parents are sued to not hearing from Jessica for long stretches of time. They probably think nothing is out of the ordinary. The maniac that has our friends probably covered his tracks well..

I look at the clock. It's nearly eleven. I pull myself away from the safety of the covers. I'm taking care of Mike today. We've all been taking turns, rotating shifts that way he doesn't hurt himself while he's recovering. The hospital tried to ask questions. I'm not exactly sure what they told them happened, but it was convincing enough for them to stop digging into what was happening any further. Somehow, I doubt that will be our last hospital visit.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I feel my blood run cold. I've talked to both Mike and Emily. I know what that means. It's my turn. I walk to the front door, a part of me is surprised I could even heat a knock on a door that was so thick. That's the same part of me that is trying to distract myself from the hell that is coming.

I see the box covered in butchers paper and twine. I see the white letter. I see the smudges that are caused by typewriters. I pick up the letter, praying a piece of my sister isn't in the box.

Beth,

How far are you willing to go to save the life of someone you love? How far are you willing to push yourself? You act like this savior, the guardian of your family, lets see if that's true. You have until midnight to get out of my maze.

Enclosed you will find a GPS. Get to that cornfield and solve the maze. Face all the dangers. I'm sure you will discover that it is harder than it seems.

Good Luck.

I open the box. Sure enough, there is a GPS. Coordinates are prerecorded. It's eleven sixteen. That gives me over twelve hours to solve this. I look at the ETA according to the GPS. Ten at night. This place is far away and I'll have less that two hours to solve whatever fresh hell is here.

I pick up my phone and call Chris. I don't have a car, but he could probably drive me, or let me borrow his car, at the very least. He answers after a single ring. He is never far from his phone. "Beth?"

"I need your help."

He's over within five minutes, as fast as he could possibly have arrived. He obviously sped the whole way to get here.

We're driving, taking stops only when we need to get gas, grabbing food and restroom breaks while we're there, going as fast as we can manage down the road. Somehow Chris manages to save an entire hour off the trip and we get there just after nine. It's a huge corn maze like the letter said. I take a deep breath. "Go save them," Chris says. "I'll wait here."

I know he's going to turn on Netflix and sit in the car, trying to ignore the entire situation. Frankly, I wish I could do the same.

I start the maze, thankful Chris got me that extra hour. It looks like a set from one of my dad's movies in here. There's blood everywhere. Somehow, I doubt it's fake. I put my hand on the left wall and start running down the maze, knowing I'll find the end eventually if I just follow one of the walls. Every time I hit a dead end a horror awaits me. A scarecrow jumps out a me. The decaying carcass of a dead pig stares at me. Dummies with zombie or clown masks look at me with cold, dead, rubbery eyes. I feel fear as everything chases me. There's clouds in the sky, covering the moon and the stars. Everything is more terrifying in the dark. I see a bit of lightning break through the clouds. I feel my hair stand on end. How long does this maze go on? I pull out my phone, check the time. I have ten minutes left. I've been at this for nearly three hours. I take a breath. I run. I can run. I can go on for ten more minutes. I can finish this. Please. Please. There it is. There's the end. It's there. I can make it! I can! I have to. Please, please. I hear a loud noise. I see it, I don't stop running. I finish the maze. "Beth," a voice comes over a speaker I didn't notice. "So close. So close. You almost made it, didn't you? How does it feel, knowing that if you started running second earlier you would have made it?" I pull out my phone. It's one minute past midnight.

 **Thank you all so much for your support. I don't think y'all realize how much it makes my day seeing a new review, follower or favorite. It really keeps me going and keeps me at it with this story. Thank you all so much for reading!**


	13. Chapter Twelve- Hannah

**I'm sorry there haven't been any updates in a while. I took a break to avoid** **getting burned out while writing. The last thing I want to do is abandon my stories, which is the reason for the break. I am sorry I left you all with a cliffhanger last time, but I hope this is worth coming back to! I should be on a regular updating schedule again, unless I say otherwise. Thank you all for being patient with me!**

Chapter Twelve:

 _"_ _The rest is silence." -William Shakespeare, Hamlet_

I don't think the world I've created is a reality. No. I know it isn't one. The world I see around me is one I've made up. These chains are still here, and my companions are still around me, chained on their own walls, but the world we are in is different. The concrete walls that surround us and trap us are stone. The concrete floor beneath us is rough and wooden. The pictures on the wall have transformed into a tapestry displaying nights hunting, and the bloody body of Matt is the body of a wounded knight who tried to rescue us from this fate.

My mind made up this world around me because I don't think I could handle the real world any longer. I'm living in a fantasy world, but I don't care. I like picturing those around me as captured fairytale creatures who can one day dream of becoming free instead of my friends and family, who are sitting here for no reason, brutally tortured. Why is this happening?

I hear them talking around me. I've heard them say things to one another when the man, this awful dragon, isn't anywhere near us. I don't hear what they say. I don't try to talk back. I just see them looking at one another, trying to find a way out of this mess. I doubt the dragon will ever let us out.

I look at Jessica, beautiful, beautiful Jessica. I guess she has become a sort of Cinderella in my head. Her beautiful face is dripping in blood, but that's because her stepsisters did that to her. Ashley isn't a princess in my head, though she will become one. She has been made into Beauty, kind and smart, who will melt the Beast's heart away into loving her. It's what I believe will happen so she and Chris can be together one day, at least. Josh... he's my brother. He's a magnificent prince who fell under the dragon's spell in order to save his sister. He's always looking out for me.

When we were little, Josh, Beth and I would play this game. It a pretend game where I was a princess, trapped in a tower, Josh was the knight who had to save me, and Beth would be this witch or fairy who would use her magic to help him save the damsel in distress. My subconscious picked this memory to turn into the fake reality around me. I'm still the damsel in distress. Josh is still the knight that tried to save me. Since we're both captured, now, it's up to our sister.

There are footsteps coming. I hear them. I hear the opening of the door. Those around me go silent as he enters. He has a presence that demands to be known. He looks around at us, smile on his face, eyeing us like we're his next meal. "Well, well, well," he lets out a hearty chuckle, looking us each over in turn, "it seems we had someone else face one of my little... games." He looks at Josh and I feel my heart speed up. Not him. Not my brother! He grabs his face with his right hand, squeezing the, now gaunt looking, cheeks on my brother's face. "My, my. Looks like they failed." He let's my brother's face go and turns to Ashley, doing the same to her. "So," he smiles, "who do I get to kill?" He licks his lips and turns to Jessica, taking her face in his hand eyeing her up and down. I see the light in my brother's eyes. I know he's secretly praying it's Jessica, not because he wants her to be hurt, but because he doesn't want to lose me. I can feel it, though. The end is coming. He walks closer to me. Closer and closer. I don't look at him directly. I don't need to. I hear Josh screaming, but I cannot make out the words he is saying. He's probably trying to do something stupid; he's probably trying to take my place. It would be like him to do something like that, sacrifice himself for the good of the princess.

The dragon doesn't take my face in his hand. Instead he wheels a large metal table to the middle of the room. It wasn't in here before. He probably brought it from outside. There are leather straps decorating the cold metal, probably used to hold down whoever is on it. He walks towards me and unchains the cuff that confines my ankle. I'm free. I don't run, though. The man picks me up, easily, like I'm a doll -I probably weigh no more than one now- and places me on the table. The metal isn't cold. It's warm. Warmer. Hot. Burning, like it was out in the sun before coming in. Like it had just been pulled from the fire. I let out a small whimper, all I can get the energy to muster up. "Oh, Hannah, it will all be over soon."

He walks away from me. I cannot see where he is going, but I know wherever it is, it will not be good for me. He returns with a hammer, nails, a knife, needle, thread and rope. He gives me a cruel smile before he starts hammering one of the large nails into my wrist. I vaguely hear screaming, though I cannot tell if it from those around me, or if it is my own. Another nail is put into my other wrist, as well as both my ankles. I'm still screaming, crying, hoping this is done soon. I can hear myself crying, begging him to stop, only to receive another laugh from him. He can't understand me. I don't have a tongue. He stops, though, after a while, to my relief. I hear him sawing and hammering at something else. Once he returns to me he gives me another sick smile, pulling out the needle and thread, threading the black thread through the eye of the needle before sewing my lips shut. I try to scream, but the sound is muffled. Tears fall from my eyes. The man ties the ropes around the nails and picks me up, carrying me to where I was once cuffed. I am tied off to a contraption, like I'm being presented for a display. Once he's finished with me I'm hanging from the ceiling by my hands and feet, the pain causing me to cry. The man pulls out his camera and snaps a picture of me. I take a look at Josh. I've never seen him cry before. The man takes out another nail and places it over my chest, before he pounds it into my heart.

This is how the princess ends up. She presented to all in a grotesque picture, mocking everything she once was.


	14. Chapter Thirteen- Mike

**Everyone, I'm so sorry about** **the lack of update last Thursday. It's been hectic here with packing and getting ready to move back to my college. I'm doing my best. Thank you all for being so supportive. I really appreciate it. I'll do my best to get two updates out a week!**

Chapter Thirteen:

 _"_ _No legacy is so rich as honesty." -William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well_

I look at the hand where I am now missing fingers, sighing. The people at the hospital think that I was fixing up a car, and a piece backfired on me. It made the situation unsuspecting. No one would be surprised to see a young guy fixing up a car for a few extra bucks. Well, I guess they don't suspect anything. I just have to hope they don't find out about anything we're involved in.

I saw them today. Not, them. Really. I saw pictures. The ones we were sent when all this shit started. It's hard to look at them and remember these are our friends, those we count on. They seem so broken, so separated from everything else that it seems unreal that it is them. We might be going through hell here, trying to prove ourselves to get them back, but if this is hell, then they're Satan's slaves. It's bad here, but I know it's worse wherever they are. I just have to hope we are doing well enough to get everyone back, alive, if nothing else. The irregular beating of my heart makes me think that this isn't going to be the case, though. I have this sense of dread. I really cannot tell if we're doing good here. Probably not.

The feeling of a hand on my shoulder pulls me away from my thoughts. I look up and see Emily. I pull myself up from off the couch. "What's up?"

She has a grim look on her face, the same one we all wear nowadays. I can't remember the last time I saw one of us smile. "They're back."

I nod. Chris and Beth were gone, doing Beth's trial. I wonder what hell he put her through. When the two of them walk through the door I see Beth's eyes are red, her cheeks are puffy. She stopped crying before she came in. I cannot remember ever having seen Beth cry. I know things didn't go well. Physically, Beth looks fine. That's good. So far I'm the only one that's been fucked over in the injury department, but, at the same time, I managed to get away without as much emotional scarring, or did I? Emily doesn't know I almost killed her, that I intended to kill her. Her back was to me, and I shot at her, like a coward. What kind of person would do that? Me, apparently. I'm just glad I was the only one hurt there.

Beth takes the seat I was just sitting on. She looks broken, hollow. I see Sam, who was standing in the corner, being a careful observer, subtly wave Chris over. I follow as Emily takes a seat next to Beth. Emily will take care of her. She's really the only one who can relate at the moment. Sam steps outside onto the back balcony of my apartment, moving to the side, Chris following, and me shutting the door behind us. "What happened?" Sam asks.

Chris takes a breath, before he lets out a sigh, like he's trying to process his thoughts. "There was this huge fucking maze. She had to get through it before midnight. It was one minute past before she got out."

I see Sam bite her bottom lip as she nods her head. I put a hand on her shoulders. We all know what this is _supposed_ to mean. Someone's supposed to die. Jess, Matt, Josh, Hannah, Ash, one of them was already killed, now another. In the pit of my stomach, I feel this gnawing. I feel like I know who died. I know Hannah's a goner. I feel as confident that she is dead that I do that Jess is alive. This has to hit Sam hard. Hannah's her best friend. Damn, I wish I was nicer to her, treated her nicer. I know she had this huge crush on me, and I used that to my advantage, getting her to do all the chores and errands for me, get her to "help" me with school work, for years, leading her on, letting her believe that these gestures would lead to something more. I should have at least given her a kiss. She deserved much more than that, but I never felt that spark between us. I'll just have to make it up to her now. I can't do anything else. I just have to pray that all of this is a dream, or that is guy isn't actually killing people. I see Sam trying to blink away tears that are forming. I move my hand from her shoulders and pull her into a full on hug, rubbing her back with my hand, letting her sob on me. From the mascara stains on Chris's shoulder, I know he did something similar for Beth.

After she manages to get the tears out of her system I look at both her and Chris. "I know you two must feel like shit, I get that, trust me, but what's coming up, it's going to fuck with you. I don't know which one of you is next, but," I take a deep breath, thinking back to the gun in my hand, finger squeezing the trigger, causing my fingers to blow off, my choice, Jess or Emily. I won't let anyone else make that choice. "I know that is all a load of shit. Do what you need to do." Deep breath, Mikey. "If you have to kill someone, don't think about it. Kill me."

I hear a pop and feel my face stinging. Sam is looking at me, her hand recoiled. "What the hell, Mike?" She looks at Chris, who has an astonished look on his face. "Neither of us are killing you. We're not going to his level. We're not stooping to his level. We aren't becoming a killer."

I feel my breath catch and my throat tighten. My legs crumble underneath me. Chris and Sam, they don't know. None of them know. "Mike, hey man, are you alright?"

I cannot remember crying. The last time I did I was probably just a kid. I'm crying now, though. Fuck.


	15. Chapter Fourteen- Jessica

Chapter Fourteen:

 _"_ _O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven." -William Shakespeare, King Lear_

I open my eyes, slowly, trying to hold onto the last pieces of the dream that filled my unconscious self. The dream wasn't that great, I was moving into an apartment, but Mike was there. We didn't do anything, we just talked. It was an average dream, but when the reality is worse than my nightmares, then every dream seems like a blessing.

I notice the smell first. My eyes are still bleary with sleep, but my nose wakes up immediately, the smell of blood, decay, and human sewage filling the room. This room was just gray concrete at one point, but now it is stained red and brown. The pictures on the wall are still pristine. I've seen that man come in and wipe them, care for them. Those pictures are trophies to him, I guess. I know he has pictures of us, somewhere. I saw him hang them on the wall, but I refuse to look. It's what we looked like at the beginning of this mess, back when we thought things couldn't get any worse. We were wrong.

I look around. Josh is awake, but I don't think he's slept since Hannah died. I don't know how long ago that was. Days melt together here. He just stares at her body, a blank expression on his face. I feel bad for him. It was hard to watch her die, for all of us, but when he must have felt... damn. He's going to be scarred for life. All of us are. All, well, the rest of us. Ashley isn't awake yet. She's laying on her side, using her arm as a pillow, curled up into a ball, shivering. She's always cold.

I remember the man saying one of us was safe. Are we really? At least one of us will get out alive, so he says. Should we trust him? It's horrible to think, but there's a part of me that just wants him to take us. It'll put an end to this existence we've suffered through, if nothing else. I want to go quickly. I don't want to scream, like Matt or Hannah. I don't want to be left to rot, or hung up like some sick puppet. What happened to this guy to cause him to do this?

I look at Josh again. His eyes are still fixated on Hannah. Is it even worth trying to help him? "She's free, at least," I say. "It's more than we can say for the rest of us." Josh heard me. His shoulders stiffened, his hands formed fists, then relaxed again. His large eyes remain on Hannah, though. The rest of him doesn't even acknowledge me. "She's gone off to some better place, away from here," I hope. "Hell, she and Matt are probably looking at that sick bastard right now, plotting some form of ghostly revenge."

"I was supposed to look after her." His voice is low, barely audible. I only hear him because of the absolute silence in the room. It's almost maddening. It would be, if it weren't for the occasional cough or sigh Ashley lets out. I keep my focus on Josh, letting him speak, for the first time since Hannah died. "I was supposed to look out for her, and I failed. I fucking failed."

I shake my head. I want nothing more than to put an arm on his shoulder and give him some form of comfort, but, because of my shackles, I'm forced to sit here and help him from afar. "You couldn't have known. No one could have. How would any of us have thought this would happen?"

He presses his fingers to the side of his temples, rubbing them in a circular motion. I see tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He has just stared at Hannah. He hasn't grieved.

There's people that say men shouldn't cry. Men need to have this look of masculinity on them at all times. Bullshit. Everyone can cry. Everyone can scream. Everyone can laugh and enjoy loving life. There should be no limits to someone's emotions. There should be no limit to Josh, who has pulled his knees up, forming a ball. His back rests against the wall, and his head is bent forward, face scrunched up in a look of torture. His hands create fists and I notice the gray on the floor below him get stained darker with his tears. I don't know how long this goes on, watching him cry. It's long enough for Ashley to wake up and look at me, wondering look in her eyes. A glance over at Hannah's corpse is enough to fill her in.

Eventually, he stops. He looks at me. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't have that blank expression anymore. There's sadness in his eyes. There's pain and fear, but thanks as well. I nod at him and we sit there in silence once again. Once the silence almost becomes overwhelming, Josh speaks. "Do you really think she went to a better place?"

"Yeah, Josh. I really do." No one who suffers that much in life deserves to suffer in death as well.

He takes a breath. "I didn't think I believed in Heaven, but now, I think I have to. I need to, for Hannah's sake, for my sanity."

"Will any of us really ever be sane again?" Ashley's voice cuts through. She's never this cold. I would call her an optimist, but there's really nothing to be optimistic about.

I simply give a shrug. "I doubt it," is all I can manage to say.

Josh shakes his head. "I guess if I am going to believe in Heaven, I need to believe in hell too. One cannot exist without the other." He sighs. "I thought Hannah and Beth couldn't exist without each other either, but I guess Beth will have to learn."

He's right. I've never really imagined Hannah without Beth, or Beth without Hannah. The two are wildly different, but, oddly, the same. They belong together. If Hannah was a butterfly, Beth would be a dragonfly. I sigh and turn my face away from Josh and Ashley, so I'm looking at Hannah. It's not fair that I get to cry, but I'm going to. I just don't want them to see me do it.

 **So I've moved into my new apartment, and have at least got my room completely set up, so** **life will start to get back on a normal schedule! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I hope you all have a blessed school year, if you're going back to school, or university, or work, or anything.**


	16. Chapter Fifteen- Sam

**I'm sorry that I've been so horrible about updating as of late. I have been working when I can, and have been trying to figure out to write this chapter since it appeared in my mind. I wish I could have gotten it out sooner, but, frankly, school comes first. Thank y'all for understanding.**

Chapter Fifteen:

 _"_ _Oh happy dagger" -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_

I'm sitting on the couch in my living room. My heart is a bird. My ribs are a cage. The bird is trying to escape, beating against the bars. I need to breathe. I need to relax. I came home to get away from the others, hoping that by separating myself from them I can think of a way to get out of this situation, get our friends back. Get Hannah, Josh, Ash, Matt and Jess back home to all of us, safely. I take a breath. What to do? Is there something I can do? I place my elbows on my knees and rub my temples with my pointer and middle fingers. There has to be a solution. There has to be. The ringing of my doorbell is distracting me, though, preventing me from focusing. I get up from the couch I'm sitting on and walk to the door, opening it to find a box. I know what this means for me. I've heard from the others, what the box means. I sigh, pick up the box, and walk to the small table in the kitchen, placing the box down and picking up the letter.

Sam,

You're perfect, aren't you? Let's see how perfect you are.

Inside the box you will find a knife. Guess who you have to save, and carve their name into your arm. I want to see bone.

Good Luck.

Perfect? I know no one who would describe me as perfect. No one is perfect. Where does this guy get this stuff? I have my own shit in my life that has caused me to be far from perfect. He doesn't know me. I feel myself start to get sick. I don't know what to do. There's five of them down there, five people for me to possibly carve into my arm.

There's no question about it. I'll put a name into my arm, but how can I be sure it is the right one? I take a breath and try to think things through. Who would the man have seen me with? Jess and Matt and I admittedly don't hang out without the others often, so I'm going to rule them out. That leaves Josh, Hannah and Ashley.

If this psycho is as sick as I believe he is then there is no doubt in my mind that he gave Ashley to Chris, and he's going to make him do something twisted to get to her. I take a breath. I can rule out Ashley. Hannah or Josh. Hannah, or Josh? Can I even choose? If I get this wrong, one of them dies, though one of them might already be dead. The other one is probably dead. I can make pretty safe guesses to who everyone got. Mike had to have gotten Jess, Emily with Matt, and Chris with Ashley. Who did the man give to Beth, though? Did he give her Josh or Hannah?

I feel like saying he would have given her Hannah is the easy answer. They're twins, but Josh and Beth got into a lot of trouble together and were also very close. I can't rule out Beth and Hannah either, though.

Who would he have put me with? Hannah is my best friend, but, Josh. There's something there. Neither of us can deny that. He and I have admitted to one another that there is something, but now isn't the time. He needed to focus on helping Chris, and I couldn't just date my best friend's brother. I take a breath and pull the knife out of the box. I pull out my phone and text Chris 'Be ready to call an ambulance. Door's unlocked.' He replies that he is on his way over right now. I can do this. I have to. I have to say their life. I know in my heart who that maniac gave to me.

This is going to suck ass.

I walk over to the sink by the kitchen, seeing a wooden spoon by the stove as I pass by. I'm not going to give him the pleasure of hearing me scream. I place my left arm over the sink and place the handle of the spoon in my mouth, already clenching down.

I carve the first letter into my arm, the pain worse than I thought it was going to be. I feel a scream form in the back of my throat, but I swallow it. They have had to have gone through so much worse. I take a breath and start on the second letter. My vision is starting to get blurry. Tears are forming in my eyes. I can do this, I remind myself. I have to. Deep breaths, Sam. I can do this. I have to. I have to. I have to. Third letter. I can hardly see my arm anymore because of all the blood. I have to keep going. I press the knife further into my arm, finishing the letter. Fourth, and I feel light headed. I'm losing so much blood. I could actually die. I take a breath. There's black coming into my vision. Just a bit more. I can do this. I vaguely hear Chris enter the door behind me. He's already pressing calling an ambulance. I can hear him talking. I. Just. Have. To. Finish.

The knife falls into the sink, a loud thud and I feel myself drifting off. I did it. I fucking did it. Josh's name is carved into my arm.

"Sam! Sam, hang on!" I feel Chris applying pressure to my arm, wrapping it in a dishtowel. "Hell," he says. He's trying to save my life. I appreciate that. "Look at me, Sam. Don't fall asleep!" I hear sirens in the background and hear paramedics race into the room. They're asking me all sorts of questions I can't answer. They'll probably assume this was a suicide attempt, and I probably be forced to join all sorts of counseling programs. That's alright. I saved Josh. I had to. Please.


	17. Chapter Sixteen- Josh

**Hello everyone! I'm so sorry I've been gone. I've been having a really rough semester, which has caused me to have some emotional issues that have been making it difficult for me to write. I haven't forgotten this story, though, or any of them. I'm so sorry I've kept y'all waiting so long. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and I will not make y'all wait this long again.**

Chapter Sixteen:

 _"_ _It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood." -William Shakespeare_

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. That's all I tell myself. I keep my eyes closed. I cannot open them. If I do I'll see Hannah. I cover my ears. I can't listen. If I do I'll hear her voice. She's taunting me enough. "Why didn't you save me, Josh? Why did you let me die?" I didn't let her die! I didn't!

I don't break this pattern unless I'm forced to, but I haven't been forced to, until now. A hand pulls my arms away from my ears. I open my eyes. He's inches away from me. "What's wrong, Josh?" You know exactly what's wrong, you sick fuck. "Is it your sister? She's beautiful, even in death." I see him look at all the pictures on his wall, his eyes darting away form mine. "They're all beautiful."

He walks away from me, towards the center of the room, so he can address the few of us that are still living. "There was another trial today. The fourth." He paces when he speaks. Does he know he does that? "The person succeeded, technically. They didn't meet all my technicalities. I didn't see any _bone."_ Bone? What the hell did he do to our friends? "Ashley, Joshua, Jessica... which one of you is next?" I watch him as he turns his attention to me. "Joshua, you're up." I should probably care that I'm going to die, but I don't. If anything, there is a glimmer of joy at the prospect of death. I've given up. All the fight I had i me has disappeared, evaporated, like water in sunlight. I just stare ahead of me, blankly, letting my eyes rest on Hannah's mutilated, contorted corpse. The killer speaks, though, as if he can read my mind. "I'm not going to kill you, Josh."

Physically, I do nothing. Mentally, I start to panic. Why and I not going to die? What is he going to do to me? Why is he treating me different than the other victims before? "I almost didn't have to do this, you know. You almost got away free, like one of your friends here. I didn't see any bone, though. Your friend almost completed their little trial, almost perfectly. Enough to save your life at least. I'm still going to have my fun, though."

He chained my hands and unchained my legs, leading me across the room, to Hannah's body. He attached my shackles to the same hook she hung from, and pulled out what looked like nine whips tied into one. At the end of each of the small ropes were metal balls at the end. In his other hand was a knife. He used the knife to tear off my shirt, exposing my back to the others in the room. The cold metal of the knife digs into my skin as he cuts at the cotton blend. It hurts, and I can feel blood start to rush out of the wound, but I don't bother to scream out. I'd just be giving into him. I refuse to do what he wants.

"Nothing, huh?" he says. I can practically hear him smile. I can hear Jessica screaming and Ashley crying. I focus my eyes on Hannah. I won't let him break me. I refuse to give in. I will make my little sister proud of me.

I realize something in that moment. If I die who will be the one to pass along her story? Who will pass on how brave she was- her and Matt? Either Ashley or Jessica is getting out of here, but I don't expect them to be the ones to pass on what happened here. They'll try to forget everything as soon as they can, and I can't blame them for that. I know I will get out of here, alive, but the question is whether I'll still be a person when I get out. I have to stay strong. I have to make it.

With that revelation, though, all the pain comes back. I don't scream. I fixate my eyes on Hannah. This is for her. This is for my sister. I feel the whip strike for for the first time. The little balls didn't look intimidating at first. They were just another part of the torture I was going to have to endure. I'm wrong. They dig into my skin. They dig into the same spot the knife did previously. I wanted to contain my scream. I wanted to be strong for Hannah, but I can't help it. A scream escapes. Tears start to fill my eyes. The pain on my back escalates with each strike of the whip. I drop to my knees, my legs too weak to continue standing. My arms are stretched far above my head because of the placement of the shackles. This has to be over soon. It has to.

I'm right. The pain ends. He grows bored and finishes what he started, unhooks my shackles and drags me away from the hook. I don't have the dignity of walking myself. Instead, I'm dragged across the floor, my back getting thrown into feces and blood that stain the floor. He chains my leg back up and takes off my shackles before leaving.

"Josh?" Ashley's voice is quiet, timid.

"Yeah?"

I hear her let out an exhale, as well as a few tears.

"Don't worry, Ash. It's just some blood. It'll heal." I look up at her. She's shaking, terrified. I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that she's next. I see the way that man looks at her. He hardly spares Jessica any looks. He's done with her. She's nothing to him. I think Ashley realizes this to. I can't think about that. "We'll all heal." If we get out of here alive.

I try not to think about how something like this could happen to either of the girls in here. I try not to think about the reason why I was tortured: he didn't see bone. What did someone do to get me out of here- to get us out of here? Yeah, we're going through hell in here, but our friends, my sister, Beth, Chris, Sam, Mike, Emily... what are they doing? I'll make him pay.

"That bastard hasn't seen the last of me. I promise."


	18. Chapter Seventeen- Chris

Chapter Seventeen:

 _"_ _The miserable have no other medicine, but only hope." -William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure_

The doctors were horrified to see the state of Sam's arm. They all thought is was a suicide attempt, and that is was lucky I showed up just in time to save her. She had an emergency blood transfusion, and her arm was stitched up, with a cast over it. I don't think she needed the cast, but doctors wanted to make sure she didn't rip her stitches out. She got out of the hospital after one night and a blood transfusion.

There's a pit in my stomach. Everyone else has gone through some horrific tragedy. It's my turn next. I'm the only one left.

"Chris, are you okay?" We're back at Sam's place, sitting around, waiting for something to happen. I can feel everyone staring at me.

I force a smile on my face. "Yeah! I'm just fine," I don't want them to see me on the verge of breaking. "Sam, are you even allowed to ask that right now?"

She lets out a small sigh and looks down at her arm. "Probably not."

We sit there in silence again. None of us know what to say. We know what's coming. The question is just when. "I'm leaving."

No one stops me as I head towards the door. The suspense is eating me. Ashley, Josh... are they okay? When will I see them again? What about Hannah? Jessica and Matt? Are they okay? I've seen what has happened to the others. Mike looks like he's done something terrible. He refuses to tell any of us what his challenge... trial... whatever the hell it is, was. Emily has stopped eating. It's starting to show. She'll drink a bottle of water when we force her to, and one time Sam managed to get her to drink a smoothie, but that was it. Beth has been in this distracted daze, walking through life as if it isn't real. Sam seems fine mentally, but her physical scars will show forever. What's going to happen to me?

I'm not surprised to see a box sitting in the front seat of my car. How the guy got in there I have no idea, but it happened. My heart is hammering away in my chest. I let out a laugh, trying to alleviate the bubble of anxiety that is steadily growing bigger inside of me. I pick the box up in my hands, but it's shaking. I'm shaking enough to make this box shake.

I don't have to do this alone. If I walk back inside I'll have support. They'll be by my side through whatever ordeal I have to go through. Whatever it is I'll do it. I have to in order to save them.

I walk back inside. "Chris, what are you-?" Sam cuts off her question when she sees the box in my hands. I place the box on the coffee table and undo the twine. Steady. I pick up the letter. I can do this.

Christopher,

Funny man. Joker. You rely on your voice for everything. You can be so annoying sometimes. What if you no longer had the capability of using your voice? What if you were silenced?

Come to the address in the box at six. Don't pass out.

Good Luck.

My voice? How is he going to take my voice? I absently bring my hand to my neck. What is he going to do? Don't pass out? "Chris?" Mike's the one who speaks first.

"I've gotta do it."

He nods. "I know. Come on. I'll take you, and I'll drive you when you're done with whatever... whatever happens."

"Thank you." My heart is beating faster, and faster, and faster. It feels like it's going to leave my chest.

"I'll come too." It's Sam who speaks, but Emily and Beth are the ones who stand up. "We're in this together. We're going to get them back. All of them." I notice the flicker of doubt that crosses Beth and Emily's faces.

"Thanks, guys."

In the ride over there I make jokes. I can't stop. I've always made jokes, whether I'm nervous, or feeling happy; it's how I cope with life. We get to the address I was given after a twenty minute drive. It's a house in the middle of an average neighborhood. Not dirty enough to be worried, but the lack of landscaping and simplistic builds shows this isn't a rich neighborhood. The house I'm told to go to has a for sale sign in the front. It probably doesn't belong to the person who is doing this then. Deep breath. I feel Sam place her hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay."

I nod and step out of the car, letting the warm summer air wash over me. It's a clear night. I can see all the stars. The moon is nearly full in the sky. It's too nice of a night for tragedy to occur. Nevertheless, it will. "I can do this."

I make the steps up the walkway and open the door. It's unlocked. I don't know how he convinced the realtor to give him the keys for the night. Doesn't matter. This is the reality I'm in. On where my friends, best friend, and crush were all taken from me. I have to do this to get them back. "Hello? Anyone here?"

The door slams behind me. Before I have time to react, a fabric bag of some sort is placed on my head. I feel a sting in my neck and the world goes black.

I wake up and I'm laying on a metal bed. My hands and legs are tied down by a rope of some sort. I try to yell out, but it comes out muffled. I realized I've been gagged. I try to move my head, but it's strapped down with a leather strap of some sort. "Christopher. You came. I'm not surprised, though. You seem to be exceptionally loyal to those you care about."

I glance to the side and notice the man sitting on a metal folding chair, arms crossed. He's older than I would have expected, in his forties, but he is in good shape. A pair of metal frame glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. He looks normal. Not like the crazy psychopath I've been imagining this whole time. "I'm going to cut out your vocal cords. I made sure you'll survive, but if at any point you want to stop the... procedure, then simply hit your hand on the table three times." He gives me a cruel smile and I suddenly see the monster I've been imagining. "Nothing to dull the pain. Make it through without tapping out and your friends, or at least, what's left of them, will be released." He leans in close. "As a final warning, don't pass out."

He comes at my neck with a scalpel and starts to cut through skin and tissue. I scream. The pain is terrible. I can't focus on anything else. I feel like I'm on fire. The edges of my vision start to go out of focus. No, I need to stay awake. I have to. More darkness overcomes. I feel myself wanting to life my hand, tap out of this. Without realizing what I've done, my hand has tapped against the table once. "Giving up so soon?" I hear him say. He sounds far away. No, I refuse to give in. My vision starts to fade. Spots take up my line of sight. I'm sorry. I'm fading. I'm going to pass out. I'm so sorry. The blackness have overcome me.


	19. Chapter Eighteen- Ashley

Chapter Eighteen:

 _"_ _Death is a fearful thing." -William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure_

I feel my heart beating a million miles a minute. The man had come down the stairs. There were brown stains that looked like blood staining the front of the man's shirt. I hold my breath and turn my head away, trying to avoid the man's gaze. It didn't work. He came over to me, looking at me like a beast would its prey. I am a rabbit and this man a fox. No, a fox has cunning and a sense of charm. Describing him as a fox would be too good for him. He was more like a mangled bear, waking up from a winter hibernation, looking for its first prey.

I spare a glance at the prey he had devoured. Poor Matt. Poor Hannah. I don't want to meet the same fate, but do I really have control one way or the other? No. Why do I know it's me he's after? The room is silent. The man had yet to say anything. Josh and Jessica had enough sense to let him say what he was going to. I don't want them to put themselves in danger anymore. They must have be aware there was nothing they could do for the me at this point.

"Ashley," the bear's voice was hardly more than a whisper. It was a harsh one, though. "The last trail was for you. Like Josh's, they succeeded, technically. They didn't follow all of my instructions though. They couldn't keep conscious."

My eyes dart to the blood on his shirt. I'm afraid to ask, but my natural curiosity was one of the only things that remained of me. If I give that up then there will be nothing left that makes me, me. "What... what did you do?" My voice is quiet. I'm not even sure the man heard me when I asked.

He crouched down, a sick, sadistic smile on his face. "Are you sure you want to know?"

My heart beats faster in my chest, threatening to escape from the safety that my body provides it. How long will my body be safe, though? What did he do? What is he going to do to me? I'll find out what he did to my friends, maybe, if I stay quiet, but the seed is planted in my mind, sprouting. I want to know the answer. I want to know the misery that was caused on my behalf. No. I need to know. I hang my head, giving approval for him to answer my question. Needles pricked in my eyes. Tears would have escaped if I had any left to cry. I feel so dry.

The man grabs my shirt and pulls me close to him, pressing my ear to his lips. His breath is warm, and I feel myself shiver in disgust. "I cut out their vocal chords."

I let out a squeak in surprise, but I want to scream in reality. Why would he do that? Can I even call him an animal? They don't enjoy torturing their prey. "And the rest? What did you do to them?" My voice shakes with every word.

The man pulls away from me. He shoves me and my head hits against the wall I'm chained to. His eyes are full of light, like a child on Christmas morning. He wanted to talk about his endeavors? He had probably been waiting for this. He raised his voice so Jessica and Josh could hear him as well. "I always knew you were my favorite for a reason Ashley!" He ran his hands through his hair, letting the smile play on his lips, biting his bottom lip as if this gave him pleasure.

He turned to Jessica. "The poor bastard that saved your life had to shoot one of their friends. They did, but they didn't know I rigged the gun, causing it to explode in their hand! Missing two fingers now." A cold laugh filled the air. Jessica's eyes were huge. Her face was filled with horror.

"How could you?"

He laughed. "How could I? It was fun." The laugh continued to echo through the chamber. "It's the only way I can feel anything. Doing things like this to others..."

He sauntered over to Matt, crouching down and caressing the dead boy's head. The body was starting to smell. Signs of decay were taking over poor Matt's body. The man touched the organs spread out on the floor. "The body parts I took from each of you... I sent them in a box. His savior had to eat them. They weren't able to stomach it, and it cost Matt his life."

I feel an ache where my toe once was. Who could even dream up something like that? It's straight from a nightmare. She's living in a reality worse than any horror movie. Josh had a look of hatred on his face, not surprising me in the least. Jessica looked hollow, like she wasn't even there. Her soul had escaped and just left a shell of a former human. I doubt I look much better.

The man walked to Hannah, where she still hung on display, a once beautiful girl turned into a grotesque doll. "Hannah's savior came so close. They had to solve a maze in a certain amount of time. I set it up with some of my favorite toys, putting all sorts of traps in there to make them scream, but they were focused. They came so close. They were just a minute too late." He ran his tongue over Hannah's cold lips, tasting her, savoring it. Josh yelled, but the man paid him no attention. I turn away, refusing to watch him hurt Hannah any more than he already has, but the man starts to yell. "Why aren't you looking? It's rude! I'm giving you a show and you refuse to watch!" I turn my head back towards the degrading scene, praying it will come to an end.

"It's not a show, monster! That's my sister!" I can hear the sobs, the shaking in each of his words. "She was my little sister... and you fucking killed her!"

The man stopped defiling Hannah's corpse and turned to Josh. "Would you rather share her fate? That would invalidate all the pain your friend went through, carving your name into their arm... Sending them to the hospital... You should thank me, really. They'll have your name as a scar forever." It was Josh became white as a ghost in that moment. "It's just as well. They're incredibly loyal to you, after all."

The man once again became a bear, walking towards me. I'm once again the rabbit. "I like playing with dead things, you know," the man spared a glance towards Hannah's corpse, "but they don't respond. I like it, sometimes. They're quiet. They please me." He looked me up and down, smiling. "Perhaps you can do the same?"

I shake my head. "No, please no." The tears I thought wouldn't come escape. "Please!" He backs me to the wall and I try to find any way of escape, like I haven't already tried every method I could think of. He presses his lips to mine. I beat on him, trying to escape. I can't. I'm trapped.

This must be what prey feels like. Trapped and helpless as all their dignity is taken away from them in a few moments.


	20. Chapter Nineteen- Beth

Chapter Nineteen:

 _"_ _Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief?" -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_

We were given an address to go to, told where to go pick up our friends. My heart beats in my chest wildly. I don't know what to think. Are my brother and sister okay? My shoulders feel heavy the entire drive. I failed. I fucking failed, and someone paid the price for my failure. I hate to think it, but I hope someone else died in the place of them. I've always depended on my family. The three of us were only whole together, though I doubt we'd ever admit it. I can't get rid of the nauseous feeling I have. If one of them died I have no doubt that it was all my fault. "Beth?" I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Sam there, looking at me with concern. I don't say anything back to her. She lets out a sigh and continues to rub my shoulder.

It's been three weeks since Chris was tortured. He's out of the hospital now. He's not doing well, but he's coping. He's driving the car we're in at least. Emily and Mike took another. Emily is as much of a wreck as I am. Mike has been depressed because of whatever he had to do. He refuses to tell us why he lost that finger. Whatever happened, it was worth it. We're bringing them all home. We have to. Please.

Music fills the car, Ed Sheeran's more depressing songs fill the air. The mood is somber. The air is heavy. Despite this, there's an underlying joy. We get them back. No matter what. They're coming home.

We drive for hours, following the GPS Chris has in his car. It's four hours away in a small town where no one could possibly recognize any of us. There is an open field by a gas station. We park at the station. Chris grabs a notepad he's started carrying around and passes Sam his credit card, scribbling to fill up the car. She does. He goes into the convenience store and I follow him in, a small bell signaling our arrival. "What are we doing here, Chris?"

He uses his pen to write on the notepad we're an hour early to the meeting spot and he wanted to pick up snacks for everyone else to try to make them feel a bit better. It's easy to see the worry on Chris's face. He's like a second brother to me. I know him almost as well as Josh. I know this is a distraction to him. He wants to see everyone come out of there as well. "You remember the last time we all hung out?" I ask suddenly. Chris gives a small smile and nods as he browses the candy section. "I was the one who dared Josh to make out with you."

Chris's face turned bright red as he picked up a KitKat bar, presumably for Josh, as that was his favorite candy. "Sorry about that."

Chris just gives a chuckle and shrugs. It hurts me that Chris will never be able to talk again. He did that for our friends. He sacrificed part of what made him, him. I couldn't get through a stupid maze. Tears start to sting my eyes. I look down at the floor so Chris doesn't see. We continue grabbing snacks in silence, grabbing a honeybun and Diet Coke to go with Josh's KitKat, sea salt and vinegar chips, a Hershey bar and cherry vanilla coke for Ash, trail mix, popcorn and tea for Jess, and jerky, Doritos and gatorade for Matt. I find myself staring at the Twix I grab for Hannah. Her and I would always share them growing up. They were a pair. They were us. I have to force myself to stop and grab Hostess cakes and a tea for her. What if I never get to give these to her?

When Chris and I hear another jingle at the door we see Sam come in. She passes Chris back his card so he can go checkout. "Mike and Em filled up too."

Chris nods and goes to checkout. "Beth," Sam says, "we'll make it through this."

I let the tears I was holding in fall silently. "I'm so scared, Sam."

She pulls me in for a hug and strokes my hair. "Me too."

Chris finishes checking out and we go out to his car, where Sam and I once again sit in the back and Chris takes shot gun. Ed Sheeran fills the speakers once again. After driving through the backroads in the small town we are led to a dirt road, where we drive until we reach a fence, large, metal, and brown, used for blocking cattle. Wooden stakes dot the empty field surrounding, holding two strands barbed wire in place. We park and get out. "This is it," I hear Sam mutter under her breath.

"Moment of truth," I respond.

Mike and Emily park behind us, looking as apprehensive we we do. Still, Mike goes to the right of the fence and places his foot on the lower strand of barbed wire and pulling up on the top one. "Ladies first," he says.

Sam takes the lead, me following close behind. Our clothes get snagged a bit, but we make it through. Emily looks at the ground once she makes it through. Her and I have reached a new understanding of one another because of this ordeal. We're the only ones who failed.

We walk down the dirt road that continues on the other side of the fence. We weren't able to drive through because of a large lock on the door. After a mile or so we reach a large clearing. Three figures are there, sitting on the ground, in the middle of the heat, cloth bags over their heads, hands and feet tied up. My heart beats wildly in my chest. Three? So Em and I did kill two of them.

The moment we spot them we can't help but break out into a run until we reach the figures. Mike and Chris go closest to them, Chris taking off the head sacks and Mike cutting their ropes. There is no one else in sight. Chris lifts the first bag and I see Jessica. She looks broken. The side of her face is covered in blood. Her blonde hair, once golden, is dull and greasy looking. I doubt the others look any better. The second bag reveals Josh. I let out a sigh of relief. My brother is alive. I have my big brother. I just need to pray my sister is the last one. Chris lifts the bag and it's Ashley. I fall to my knees and cry.

I killed my sister.

 **I cannot believe we're almost at the end of this story. I have more Until Dawn works coming out, though, and my other Until Dawn story, While the World Crumbles We Stand Strong will be continued. (Sorry for the delay on it.) I hope you all like this chapter though!**


	21. Chapter Twenty- Jessica

Chapter Twenty:

 _"_ _I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety." -William Shakespeare, King Henry V_

It's been weeks since that man came down and did anything to us. He... he did all that stuff to Ashley right in front of us. Killed Matt and Hannah, tortured Josh, I got off easy, and I still feel awful. He's not hurting us anymore. Maybe I can start feeling like myself again. I doubt that will ever happen. That man... that killer comes down once every couple of days and drops off food for us to eat, not caring to look at us. We're not his toys anymore. We're old, broken, ready to be disposed of.

I've long since stopped caring about the smell of decaying bodies that are in the room with us. He refuses to remove them. I've looked at every damn picture he has hanging on the walls. I haven't stood up in so long I'm not sure I'd even be able to. I'm lucky I didn't get an infection from where he cut off my ear.

Josh and Ashley are worse than I am. They're shells of the people they once were. Seeing his sister's body rot in front of him has got to do something to him psychologically. This will affect him the rest of his life. It will affect all of us. Ashley doesn't eat the food she's brought unless I remind her it's there. She was a virgin before all this, a classic romantic. She didn't want to have sex before she got married. We all thought she was crazy but we respected her choices. Seeing him take away something Ashley held sacred was heart breaking as well.

I can't be much better off than they are, if I'm being completely honest. I just need to be glad that someone out there loves me enough too... too... I know it's Mike. No one else would be able to hold a gun up to someone and shoot. Maybe Beth, but she wouldn't have done that to save me. Only Hannah or Josh. Mike was willing to kill someone to save me? Should I really be happy about that? I stare blankly at the ground. This is what has been going through my head these past weeks. Everything our friends did for us... I can't believe it.

A loud slam takes me away from my thoughts. We got fed yesterday. What is he doing here? He walks over to me and frees me from my shackle. "Get up." His voice is a quiet whisper, more terrifying than any yell could be. I do my bed to rise to me feet, but my legs are shaking. I fall to the ground. He picks me up like I'm a rag doll and throws me over his shoulder. I probably don't weigh anymore than one. If he's going to kill me then I'm not going to fight back. I'm ready to give up. He takes me up, outside. I breathe fresh air for the first time in probably months. I forgot what it was like. It's overwhelming. I don't experience the brightness of everything around me long. A bag is thrown over my head and my hands and feet are tied up and I'm thrown somewhere. I don't scream or struggle. A few minutes later another body joins me. From the grunting sound I can tell it's Josh. A few minutes after that Ashley is placed here too. I assume we're in the truck we came in.

The ride is as unpleasant as I remember, but I know I'm on my way to freedom, whether that be death, or my friends. Mike. I'll see Mike again. Emily. Hell, I miss her so much. Everyone. I'd kill to even hear one of Chris's cheesy dad jokes. I suddenly remember what happened to who saved Ash. I have no doubt it was Chris. Well, all my prayers can't be answered.

We drive for hours, but I don't mind this time like I did the first. The three of us don't say anything. We can't see each other. I know we're all thinking the same things, though. It's good to be out of that cellar. Death or freedom, either is a blessing at this point. The possibility of seeing our friends and family again is almost too good to be true.

An abrupt stop catches me by surprise. I hear the truck turn off and the door slamming. The guy throws us out. We're sitting outside. I can feel the sun on me. It feels nice. "Stay here. Don't even try to escape or follow me. If you do I'll kill you." I hear him let out a low laugh. "Congratulations, you all managed to win my little game."

I hear the truck door slam once again and the sound of the truck start up. He drives away, leaving us here. We can't follow even if we wanted to. We're bound. Are they coming for us? Is Mike coming to get us? I haven't let myself be hopeful in a long time, but, feeling the sun on my skin, I'm starting to believe good things can happen again, if only for a fleeting moment.

We're out there maybe twenty minutes, give or take, my sense of time has been altered since not seeing a clock in who knows how long, when we start to hear voices, then running. I hear a pair of footsteps run over to me. Someone takes the bag off my head and someone else cuts the ropes. I smile. Chris is in front of me. Mike was cutting the ropes. They move onto Josh and I can see relief fill Josh's features. Finally, they get Ash. I vaguely hear someone crying, but I can't bring myself to care. I'm free, finally.

Mike comes back over to me and pulls me close. I probably look like shit and smell even worse, yet he is hugging me like I'm the most precious thing in the world to him. "Jess," he whispers quietly, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

I lift my arms and hug him back. "Let's get out of here." My voice is so weak. I want to sound confidant, but tears are spilling from my eyes.

He gets up and extends a hand to me. I take it and try to stand, falling to the ground. He shakes his head and and I can see the torture in his eyes. We're not the only ones who went through hell, I suddenly realize. Mike picks me up in his arms and places me in the car, carefully, like I'm made of air. I could blow away at any moment. "Wait right there." It's not like I have a choice. I don't have the strength or energy to move. He comes back after a moment he comes back with trail mix, popcorn and tea. I start crying. Never has any of this looked so good. I'm safe. I'm with Mike. I'll never leave him again.

 **Hey everyone, with the end of this story coming close, I decided to publish a new story called Fairy Lights. I hope some of y'all will check it out and tell me what y'all think. I'm really excited about it. It's a darker story, but I doubt it will get as dark as this one. Thank you all very much for reading!**


	22. Epilogue- Chris

Epilogue:

 _"_ _When I make curtsy, bid me farewell." -William Shakespeare, As You Like It_

It's been a month since the investigation closed. It's been over three years since the hell Jess, Josh and Ash lived through ended. It's been three years since we buried Hannah and Matt. Buried isn't the right word. We never got their bodies back. Memorialized may be more appropriate. It's why we're all meeting today.

Ashley is sitting next to me. I can see her leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. I place my hand over it and give her a smile. We're the first ones here. It's warm in the restaurant, despite the icy winter outside. A fireplace in the corner illuminates the restaurant in a warm, amber glow. Ashley has shed her jacket, resting it on the back of her chair, her scarf carefully folded on top of it. I discarded my jacket as well, but keep my scarf. I don't like it when people stare at the horrible scars on my neck. It's easier to cover in winter, but summer I force myself to wear collared shirts that do little to hide the damage. I'm lucky Ashley is supportive. She probably thinks the same thing about me.

I know why she's nervous. The investigation is closed. They found the guy who did it, but there was no hard evidence to prove him. There was only the eyewitness testimonies from Ash, Jess and Josh. They were the only ones who had a consistently good look at him. The glances I got were blurry, at best. The others never got a good look at him. There was no proof he gave us the boxes. His murder bunker was never found. The bodies of Hannah and Matt were forever missing. It kills me every time I think about it.

Em disappeared after that night. We didn't hear from her for months until, one day, Sam couldn't take it any more. She went to where Em was living and barged in. There was nothing but a note and an extremely emancipated body that was once Emily. The note read that she didn't deserve to eat anymore. If she had eaten when she could the she could have saved Matt. None of us realized she cared so much. The guilt probably weighed on her more than any of us realized. We got to bury her, at least.

Beth tried to kill herself more than once. She's in a hospital now, getting help. Josh and Sam visit her weekly. Josh tells her each time that he doesn't blame Beth for Hannah's death. Whenever any of us ask what happened to her, though, he pales. He can't speak of it. Ashley only told me what happened in detail a month ago, the night the investigation closed. I guess she couldn't hold in the secrets of that place anymore. I've become a great listener in recent years. It's not like I can make jokes to cheer people up anymore. I glance at Ash who is looking at the menu, but not reading it. "What do you want?" she asks quietly. It's not like I can order for myself.

Ashley has to translate for me wherever we go. Her and I both spent a year learning how to sign. I have to write out everything in words for the others, but Ash and I have our own little world. That might be the only good thing that's come out of this whole thing. I look at the menu and point at a pasta and steak dish, as well as a glass of wine. Ashley gives me a weak smile. She's noticed how discouraged I've become. I only drink when I'm upset nowadays. "They'll be here soon."

'I know." My hands are still a bit clumsy, but I sign out the response.

As is on cue Jess, Mike, Sam and Josh walk in. They all carpooled, Mike being the only one who has a car. They talk to the hostess before I let up my hand, signaling where we are. Mike nods and leads the group over.

We always meet on this day. We go to exceedingly fancy places each year, the first year being a Taco Bell, last year iHop and this year Olive Garden. Maybe next year we'll expand beyond a chain. They all take their seats at the table, the girls taking one side, Josh and Mike filling the remaining spots. "So, how's life everyone?" Mike asks.

We're all upset about the case being closed. That bastard was let off. After everything he did to us they could do nothing. There was no hard evidence. I can tell no one wanted to let him off, but eyewitness testimony and a series of letters is not enough to convict someone. The waitress comes and takes our order quickly. It's not hard to tell we're all depressed. No one wants to stay around our sorry group longer than they have to.

We eat our salad and breadsticks in near silence. I watch as Ash swirls the warm breadstick in the cold Italian Dressing. What happened to us? I hear some people cheering from the bar, people our age, watching a sports game of some sort. Shouldn't that be us? Shouldn't that be what we're experiencing?

I need to break this silence. It's driving me crazy. I sign to Ash, asking a question. The others look at me. Sam is the only other one who has attempted to learn, but she doesn't have the time to learn everything. She knows the alphabet and a few choice symbols. Ash looks up at the others, mostly Josh. "He asked how Beth was doing."

Josh looked down at the barely touched salad. All he had eaten were the olives. "She's okay. I doubt she'll ever be the same as she was. Maybe she can come out with us next year."

At that moment a series of phone chimes go off. We all pull out our phones. It's the police department, the detectives who were working our case. It's a group message and we all read the same thing. "We need you to come down to the station when you can. Five people have gone missing." The bastard struck again.

 **I can't believe we're done. This chapter was so hard to write because I didn't want to end this story but there was really no where else I could go. I'd like to thank all of you who read up to here. It's crazy to think some of y'all actually like my random sadistic scribbles… I'm getting really choked up writing this authors note, if I'm completely honest.**

 **I would like to thank everyone who followed and favorited this story, and I would especially like to thank all of you who reviewed. It meant (and still means) a lot to me that you all would take time out to do that. I would like thank all of you for giving me these last nine months of support. I know I'm rambling because I really don't want to end this.**

 **If you liked this please go check out my story Fairy Lights. It's a bit similar in tone to this story.**

 **I love you all.**

 **-Anarchist's Rose**


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